Pretty Mouth and Green Her Eyes
by nicolejeanine
Summary: Five years after graduating, James Potter returns to Hogwarts as the defense professor. The residing Head Girl, Lily Evans, catches his attention and becomes irresistible yet seemingly unattainable. UPDATED! yay
1. Prologue

**Pretty Mouth and Green Her Eyes**

By: Nicole Jeanine

Disclaimer: The original characters and storyline are mine. I do not believe I am JK Rowling, or that I own _Harry Potter_ in any way, shape, or form. I also do not believe I am JD Salinger and would like to thank him for the use of his title (I switched one word, though).

Summary: Five years after graduating, James Potter returns to Hogwarts as the defense professor. The residing Head Girl, Lily Evans, catches his attention and becomes irresistible yet seemingly unattainable.

**Prologue**

"So I said, 'Hey, if you want to haggle, fine. I'll give thirty for it.' I mean really, I think that was generous enough. But then the guy says, 'No. It's fifty cents per windshield cleaning.' I mean really, beggars can't be choosers, you know?"

"You held up traffic, arguing with one of those poor old men who wipe off windshields for change at intersections?"

"Hear you me, no one takes advantage of Sirius Black. And you know what else? He tried to wash the windows on my new two-seater with a dirty kitchen rag—did more harm than help. He's lucky he got a cent out of me."

Remus Lupin and James Potter sat opposite Sirius, mouths agape. Remus collected himself first and stuttered, "Are you actually saying these words?"

It was the start of term in the four boys' seventh year. Presently, they were seated in their boarding school's Great Hall awaiting the new students ritual induction which was promptly followed by a start of term feast, complete with roasted foul, lemon crusted salmon, and apple crumb cake. Their school, however, was not ordinary by any standards, as one could probably guess from the name of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy, but even by wizarding standards, Hogwarts stood apart from the others. An elitist academy, it housed Great Britain's wealthiest and most talented wizards, having had many Ministers of Magic graduate from the school's tall, ivy covered fortress walls. Although their world was in the midst of a war, the front line was far from the castle's grounds, as were it's students' minds. Except for an early morning glance at the headline of the _Daily Prophet_ newspaper, the war was placed beyond the realm of the rich and in the hearts of the middle class, few of which were granted scholarships and few of which were not ridiculed until they transferred.

Remus Lupin was one of these rare men who had survived his entire seven years at the school by unintentionally stumbling upon the right people soon after his arrival. Together, he and three other boys formed a group deemed by the school caretaker "The Marauders". Known for their irresistible charm, sharp wit, and unruly behavior, the group was famous beyond the school's walls, as its ringleaders Sirius and James were part of two of the wizarding world's premier families: the deatheater spawning Blacks and the ministry running Potters. Although the men were born enemies, their immediate friendship captivated the press, and, together, they made themselves into the wizarding world's most eligible bachelors.

"He probably just wanted enough money to scrape out a bus fare to the soup kitchen," James sighed, only to receive an over dramatic eye roll.

"Ah, his cup was almost full with quarters; he's fine. Anyways, that's why I've completely abandoned car driving. Only my motorcycle from this point forward."

"For someone who hates their parents, you certainly do enjoy frolicking through their vault, rolling in their heaps of gold," their fourth friend, Peter Pettigrew, added wistfully. Peter came from old money, much of which had dwindled out of the family bank account over the previous century, but the Pettigrew family forged on and insisted they were quote, unquote fine.

"And I hate to ruin your plan," Remus smiled mockingly, "but motorcycles have windshields, also. Rather petite ones but present none the less."

Sirius scoffed and flung his water glass around the table in a gesture. "I'm not stupid, you know. Of course they have windshields, but they're more easily accessible. I can guard it better if one of those squeegee men approach me again, set up a tighter defensive strategy. It's all in the defense, you see."

"Yes, _we_ are the ones being ridiculous."

"Finally you accept what I've been telling you all these years."

The headmaster entered swiftly and regained his place at the head table, signifying the ceremony's near start. The group of four customarily sat in the four back-most seats of the Gryffindor table at every meal except the year's first feast, at which they assumed the four front-most seats. These were usually reserved for the first years, forcing the new children to have the unpleasant experience of being prodded at by the much larger boys while they clustered and waited for their names to be called. Professor McGonagall, the much loved Transfiguration teacher, heaved open the large oak doors at the rear of the hall and lead the frist years in a march to the stool where they huddled as planned next to the Marauders. She gave the boys a scowl as she passed and received a collective angelic look.

As they settled in their places, a first year accidentally brushed against James' back in an attempt to stand somewhat close to the crowd's front. James turned at the contact and saw a small, redheaded girl with emerald-like eyes looking at him apologetically. He smiled warmly at her and turned back to his group with a mischievous look, mouthing the word, "Red."

Sirius, who was sitting across from him, casually glanced between James and Remus to see the girl and approvingly signaled. Biting back a smile, the other boys peered unsuspectingly at her in turn, so as not to draw attention.

James leaned back a little more to resume their contact, causing the girl to edge slightly more into the assemblage while shooting a puzzled look at the back of James' head. He twisted around to face her once again and whispered, "Oh, sorry," while he handsomely grinned and ran a hand through his already messed hair.

She looked on wide eyed and in time smiled back shyly.

Turning back toward the table, Sirius and Peter stifled an excited giggle as James ripped off the corner of a paper doily underneath the centerpiece. Remus rolled his eyes and redirected his attention to the Sorting Hat, which had finished its song and proceeded to deliberate about the first student's sorting. The boys joined in on the applause after a boy was sent to the Ravenclaw table, and then began a game of 'Flick the Wadded Up Paper Between the Other Person's Fingers/Goal'. The game became more rowdy with every flick in an attempt to make their plan seem accidental, and after three turns, Sirius flicked the paper over James' head, where it hit the redhead's cheek. James turned back around as applause broke out at the Slytherin table, to apologize once again when McGonagall noticed their game.

"Mr. Potter, stop taunting the first years," she snapped sharply from the podium and proceeded to read the next name. He feigned mock surprise at her insinuation and moved back to face his friends when Remus turned to the girl.

"Forgive him, but it seems as though he's a two-year-old and teases you to express his feelings," he said briefly before James elbowed him.

"Oy!" he quietly shouted as the others chortled. "What is this? Pick-on-James-day?"

"When did we pick on you before?"

"Okay, so what is this? Pick-on-James-moment?"

Remus shrugged. "Quite frankly, yes."

"Shut up," James gruffed.

By the time the girl had been sorted, she was left with the choice of sitting next to James, Sirius, or a boy with rather unfortunate early onset acne. She tentatively sat next to James, gaining a glance and familiar smile from him. The headmaster delivered his beginning of term speech which introduced new rules and new instructors, during which the boys whispered amongst themselves while absentmindedly clapping for Professor Kettleburn, the new arithmancy professor. After the lecture, the food appeared as if by magic on the tabletops, and the school broke into a chatter.

"Finally," Sirius groaned as he dove for the serving spoon and piled mashed potatoes on his plate. He took his fork and held the potatoes to his mouth. "Oh, I've missed you. So buttery, so creamy, yet seasoned to perfection."

The others laughed heartily as Sirius shoveled the potatoes into his mouth with unprecedented speed. With a side glance, James noticed the girl hesitantly placing garden salad on her plate while not attempting conversation with the surrounding first years. "Hello."

She stared up at him.

He was visibly leaning toward her, his blue eyes sparkling, waiting for a response. When none came, he continued, "I'm James. What's your name again?"

She opened her mouth and stuttered for a second. "I-I'm Lily," she meekly replied, still staring at him.

Their struggling conversation caught Sirius's attention. He dramatically shook his hair from his eyes and exclaimed, "Like the flower? I love lilies." He gestured to James, "His mum has a whole garden full. Sometimes, I like to just go out and lay in them, but his mum gets mad because I smush them."

"What a lovely story," Remus said sarcastically.

"Why thank you," Sirius quipped.

"You're very welcome."

"I detect a note of insincerity."

"Oh, do you?"

"Oh, I think I do."

"Well then,--"

"Okay, okay," Peter cut in. He eyed the girl curiously. "What's your surname?"

Lily blinked in confusion. "Sorry?"

"Your SURname," Sirius repeated obnoxiously louder. "Your last name, your second name. _Apellido_ in _espa__ñ__ol_."

"Evans," she replied, nervously writhing in her seat.

"Um-hum," Peter nodded. "I couldn't place the eyes. You're parents are muggles, non-magical?"

"Yes," she responded still not understanding.

James studied her face. "Don't let anyone tell you you don't deserve to be here," he said dropping his gaze to the water glass he was swirling in his hand, clearly feeling sorry for her. "And they're going to tell you that."

"Yeah, and when they do, you come let us know," Sirius interrupted again, smiling at her mischievously this time. "We'll take care of it."

Lily gradually became more talkative throughout the dinner's five courses, ending with her walking to the dorm with a young blond haired girl in her own year.

Sirius exhaled and flopped with ease onto the red couch in the center of the common room after the meal. "Good to be back."

"Yeah," Remus agreed while sitting down in an armchair next to the fire. "Not for long though, right?"

"What?" Peter asked confused.

"He means it's our last year. You know... this is it," James explained as his eyes strayed to an attractive sixth year, who was making eyes at him from the staircase. "Well, while you all finish sulking about having to grow up, I'm going to make the best of it." And with that, he started toward the girl, who waved girlishly at him as he approached.


	2. Chapter 1: Fourteen Down, Five Letters

**Pretty Mouth and Green Her Eyes**

By: Nicole Jeanine

Disclaimer: The original characters and storyline are mine. I do not believe I am JK Rowling, or that I own _Harry Potter_ in any way, shape, or form. I also do not believe I am JD Salinger and would like to thank him for the use of his title (I switched one word, though).

Summary: Five years after graduating, James Potter returns to Hogwarts as the defense professor. The residing Head Girl, Lily Evans, catches his attention and becomes irresistible yet seemingly unattainable.

**Chapter One: Fourteen Down, Five Letters**

Five years and 364 days later, James Potter awoke in his apartment to an alarm's piercing screech. He haphazardly rolled out of bed and, consequently, onto the floor in an attempt to evade the sound. Pulling himself into the adjoining bathroom, he shut the door and successfully heard the all-blissful silence. The shower started, and he climbed in, letting the steam take its effect on his senses.

Gradually, he regained consciousness and stepped out to get dressed. He simultaneously brushed his teeth and ran a comb though his hair in a halfhearted effort to look decent before exiting the small room. In his bedroom once again, he sighed while appraising the clutter of papers atop his desk. He rummaged through some of the desk drawers, taking out a stack of folded, stained papers. They were tossed onto the other papers on the desktop before being flipped through, losing some of its contents to the newly formed smaller stack. James stuffed the smaller stack into his worn-looking briefcase and shoved a few letters from off the floor into the breast pocket of his blazer.

He picked up the briefcase and threw it on top of a fully packed trunk situated next to the door. Leaving behind the luggage, he walked slowly through the doorway and into the living area, standing opposite from the kitchen where Remus was apparently channeling Julia Childs, appareled with an apron. Peter was hunched over a chair's arm near James, lacing his new Italian leather shoes, while Sirius sat at a stool near Remus doing the _Daily Prophet_'s morning crossword.

"Post," Sirius remarked before throwing a letter at James, who dove to catch it. James quietly opened the letter, skimmed it, and placed in his pocket with the others.

"What's that?" Sirius asked nosily, chewing on his pen's cap.

"Nothing important," James answered simply.

Sirius eyed him accusingly. "Then why are you putting it in your pocket instead of throwing it away?"

"I don't know," James said.

Remus shrugged from the kitchen, dismissing the topic while separating egg whites.

"What are you doing, Remus?" James inquired, watching Remus toss the yolk back and forth between the two eggshell halves.

"Making pancakes," he said and finally dropped the shells and yolk into the garbage.

"I think he means what are you wearing," Peter laughed from the armchair.

Remus put a hand on his hip and pointed the wooden stirring spoon at Peter with the other. "Hey, do you want pancakes or not?"

Peter shrugged and refocused on his shoes.

"I think you look very nice, Remmy," Sirius reassured him.

"Thank you, Paddy," Remus responded while smiling fondly at Sirius.

Finished with his shoes, Peter stared at Remus and Sirius. "Gag me."

"That can be arranged," Sirius shot back.

Peter looked around, bored. "Why are you so quiet this morning?"

James looked up to find everyone staring, awaiting an answer. "No reason," he said, dodging the topic. "Just enjoying the show."

The following silence sustained for a mere ten seconds before Sirius found his voice once again. "Fourteen down," he called out while studying his crossword puzzle. "Blank Potter who has been fired fifty-two times in the past year and a half. Starts with a 'J'."

"Haha. Very funny, Mr. Black," James dryly laughed.

"I thought so."

"So did I," Remus chimed in teasingly.

"Yeah, well maybe you two aren't invited to lunch." This stood as a sensitive subject for James, which had been circulating in the gossip columns ever since he lost his job at the ministry. 'James Potter, fired yet again' the headlines read almost weekly, and it had come to the point where companies would hire him solely for the publicity of firing him.

"Well maybe we don't want to go," Sirius argued back.

"Well maybe you shouldn't," James responded childishly.

"Now, now," Remus sighed. "James, Sirius is sorry. Sirius, James is sorry. Everyone is going to lunch," he stated with a rather authoritative air.

James proceeded to stick his tongue out at Sirius, which Sirius returned with the addition of feigned moose ears over his head. James copied him, and Sirius decided to blow a raspberry, catching Remus's attention.

He scowled. "Sirius, don't make me come over there."

"What? Going to spank me?"

"Possibly."

Sirius tossed his hair femininely and batted his eyelashes at Remus. "Please do."

The group laughed and continued bantering until the pancakes were done, at which time, they ate speedily and rushed to the door to leave for their planned lunch at the Potters. Remus abruptly halted at the door after everyone grabbed their coats. "Wait! We need to bring something."

"No we don't," James groaned, waving his hand dismissively. "They're fine. They don't need anything."

"No, no. Remus is right. We need something," Peter said while looking around their apartment.

"Wine?" Sirius suggested, earning a collective stare of disbelief.

"No."

"What? It'll be noon before we get there."

"No."

"Come on," James said, pushing past them and stepping into the hallway. "There's that flower cart on the corner."

Nodding, they all crowded into the elevator and hurried to the flower stand, which was overflowing with petals.

"Daffodils?" Sirius asked, while staring wide eyed at the array of colors.

"No," James said, rather pessimistically.

"Marigolds?"

"No."

"Sunflowers?"

"No. Nothing yellow."

"Roses?"

"No."

"Daisies?"

"No."

"The little purple ones?"

"No," James restated, while scowling at some of the irises.

Sirius turned away from the small cart. "What is with you?" he demanded in a matching tone.

James rolled his eyes and elbowed Sirius while reaching for the tiger lilies. Everyone murmured in agreement and reached for their pockets when Sirius held up his hand. "Please let me. After all, I did just get that promotion at the office, and poor Jamey here hasn't even worked for two weeks."

Throwing a bitter sneer at Sirius, James responded, "At least I didn't have to sleep with anyone to get a promotion."

"Hey, a man can enjoy climbing his way up the ladder of success."

"Some ladder," Remus joined in. "More like climbing up the boss's daughter."

Sirius's mouth dropped open. "You know what? I'm hurt, Remus. I am earning the money to pay for these beautiful flowers, and you just stand there looking on like you have no care in the world. Next time, you pay. You see how hard it is to provide for everyone when no one even says a polite, 'thank you, Sirius the Great' or 'you're so gracious, King Sirius'."

Remus scoffed. "If you were our king, we'd be in a lot of trouble."

Sirius turned his back to Remus, and repeated this motion as Remus tried to circle around to his other side.

Remus threw up his hands, and exasperatedly inquired, "What are you doing, Sirius?"

"James," Sirius started while thrusting his nose high into the air. "Would you please tell Remus I am not speaking to him ever again?"

"It sounds like coffee break time to me," James said eying a coffee shop a few store windows down the road.

Peter shook his head, "No time. We have to start over now if we're going to make lunch on time."

James tore his eyes away from the caffeine, disappointed, and ran into the nearest street lane waving his arm wildly. A cab pulled curbside and the boys piled in, with Sirius almost closing Remus's arm in the door whilst he pretended to not notice him.

"Bloody Hell, Sirius," he groaned gruffly as the cab started down the avenue.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

They clustered for a moment on the Potter Manor's front stoop after walking the winding path to the main entrance before knocking. The house was the pride and joy of the Potter family, completely secluded from the surrounding houses and unknown to the mainstream wizarding community. Its interior decor was far from humble despite its exterior simplicity: a simple pale yellow finish with white trimmed windows, framed by homely shutters. Sirius banged loudly on the thick wooden door while Remus calmly rang the doorbell. A cheerful maid greeted them and escorted them into the foyer to wait while James' parents were notified of their arrival. The family's opulence was displayed proudly in every room in the mansion with colossal paintings of past family members and high-priced foreign ceramic works. Pacing around the foyer while admiring the new Indian vases, Sirius accidentally tripped over James' outstretched shoe.

"Walk much?" James snickered.

"Again with you today. You better check that attitude when your father gets here. What _is_ the matter?"

"What's the matter with me? You're the one with the clown feet."

"I'm proud of my shoe size, and I think you have some resentment."

"Oh yeah, I'm jealous that you have to special order a 44, double wide."

Sirius reeled at this. "Take that back!" he gasped. "I wear a regular width, and you know it!"

"Do we have to check the shoe boxes when we get home?"

"THAT'S IT!" he yelled while tossing the flowers to Peter. He tackled James and managed to miss the small table positioned by the staircase as he flipped James overhead after failing to get him in the chokehold position.

"Get off me," James said into the antique Persian rug and shoved Sirius over backward toward the staircase, which coincidentally was currently occupied by their host and hostess. "Oh. Hi mum, dad."

"Son," Mr. Potter said with amusement. He was tall, full framed man sporting the classic ministry clean cut facade. On his arm was Mrs. Potter, slim figured and rather frail looking, who broke away from her husband's grasp to inspect Sirius's inflamed forehead, which was currently forming a small trickle of blood.

"James!" she scolded disapprovingly, "Look what you've done."

"Yeah, James. Look," Sirius pouted while Mrs. Potter ushered him into the nearest bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet.

"Well," his father said, "it seems as though you all are still... well... yourselves, I guess would be the only way of describing it."

"He started it."

"As always." His gaze fell upon Peter and Remus. "Hello, boys. How goes the old single life?"

"Same old thing, but hey, we're not complaining. These are for you and your wife, by the way," Remus said conversationally while giving Peter a push to hand over the flowers.

"Oh! How thoughtful of you, but I told you all last month, you needn't bring anything," he smiled while they walked to the dining room with the newly bandaged Sirius arm in arm with Mrs. Potter.

"I told you," James said quietly to Remus, who rolled his eyes at James' notion.

The room had a rustic blue and pink coloring combination with three china cabinets full of Victorian serving spoons and lavish Russian teapots lined against the wall farthest from the servant's staircase. Looking over the head of the table where James' father sat, a large portrait of the first Harold Potter hung, the family's first born Minister of Magic. The current Harold Potter gazed upon his great-great-grandfather each time he entered the room as a reminder of his ambition, which thus far was unattained, but becoming less of a wild fantasy with every passing day. Lunch was served rather promptly by three staff members, and the small talk accordingly ended.

"So, James," Mr. Potter sighed, his chest heaving with great force. "I hate to bring it up again, but—"

"Harold," Mrs. Potter snapped from his left.

"Please, dear," he said shortly and turned to James. "Now son, I would like to remind you of this family's reputation." By now, he had abandoned his silverware and had folded his hands on the table's edge in a silent sign of disappointment.

James placed his fork beside his plate and stared at it. "Why do I have the feeling this is going to sound all too familiar?"

"Now, I'm not singling you out here, but recently—"

"You're _not_ singling me out? I beg to—"

"Just shut up a second," Mr. Potter ordered, the tone of his voice rising considerably.

"No," James snapped. "I would like to—"

"You're my son, and you will hear me," he repeated with a much louder anger. He coughed slightly and glanced to his wife who shook her head at him. "Now," he said quietly. "I've told you this before, and since you force me to repeat myself, I'm going to: Find a job, and get the Hell out of the tabloids."

The table sat in a tense silence as they all politely looked away from the two arguing men when James spoke. "If you would listen for a minute, I have some news. I'm going to be leaving town for a while with a new job."

This peaked the interest of everyone at the table, yet left them dumbfound for words.

"What type of job?" his mother asked in a try to show support by disguising her suspicion with a smile.

"A teaching position." In spite of his father's eye roll, James continued, "I'm the new Hogwarts Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. I start tomorrow."

"You've lost your mind," his father slurred angrily, which began the agglomerative, stuttered protests from everyone at the table, the loudest of which, not surprisingly, was Sirius's.

"WHAT?!" he bellowed as he rose, knocking his chair to the floor in his rage. This silenced everyone as they watched him in shock. "What? Were you just never going to tell us?!" Sirius took another bite out of his sandwich, still standing. "This is the worst day EVER," he choked out, beginning to look teary eyed. He threw the sandwich back to the table and gave James a deadly glare. "TOMORROW? My God!" he shouted, bits of half chewed bread flying onto the fruit platter.

"James, this is completely irrational," Harold spat as his wife coaxed Sirius into returning to his seat. "You don't know the first thing about teaching, and you'll be preparing those brats before they come to me looking for a post in the war? Not in this lifetime, son. You're screwing up not only your own life this time, but their—"

"I'm not screwing up again!" James yelled, standing up and walking away from the table. "It's already done. The headmaster, Albus Dumbledore _himself_, offered me the position, and I took it. It's a sure thing for at least year, and it'll get me the Hell away from here."

Mr. Potter followed him through the hallway out of the dining room, "This is _just_ like you, you know? You're only thinking of yourself here—OH! And what a new theory: you being self centered! Why, I've never heard ANYTHING more RIDICULOUS. It is in no means 'guaranteed', I'll have you know..." The shouting match drifted out of earshot from those who remained in the dining room.

Mrs. Potter sighed and let her head fall into her hands. Sirius comfortingly rubbed circles into her shoulder as Remus stood with Peter following suit.

Remus looked at the table appraisingly, and commented, "It really was a lovely brunch."

She laughed fondly. "Thank you, Remus." Grabbing Sirius's hand, she smiled up at them, "You all, of course, are still welcome to these lunches if James isn't around."

"Is he not around because he's at the school or because Harold's about to pummel him to death on the front lawn?" Sirius joked.

They all laughed, but Remus reassured her, "We'll always come."

"Well, come on, now. You all will probably be leaving soon," Mrs. Potter said sadly while walking them to the front door. As predicted, the spectacle had moved outside where a cab was already waiting. The three dragged James to the car, kicking and screaming the whole way. Once inside, they sat in silence until they reached the highway.

"So," Sirius said, the word muffled by the hand supporting the weight of his head, half covering his mouth. "Tomorrow?"

"Please, Sirius. I don't need to hear it from you, too."

He sighed, before continuing, "I'm not going to lie. I'm angry, but... I mean... I love you."

"Great," James said looking out the soot covered window. "This is going to turn into some weird argument about who loves each other the most."

"If I had to pick, I'd put my money on Sirius and Remus," Peter joked.

Sirius laughed and put his arm around Remus, "Too true. Isn't that right, Remmy?"

"Okay, get off," Remus said, moving away while uncomfortably restrained by the seatbelt.

"Where do you think you're going?" Sirius asked playfully while reaching his other hand toward Remus.

"Stop it! You're freaking me out," he said, struggling to ward off Sirius's failing arms. "Oh, what are you two laughing at?" he added when he glanced toward Peter and James. "This is _not_ funny."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Author's Note: Thank you all SO SO much for the reviews! I didn't think I would get any, and now look... You guys are the best. Also, about the five years thing, if it's five years after he graduated, not after the prologue, then that's Lily at the end of year 1 + 5 years, putting Lily at the end of year 6, or start of 7th. So, I think the timeline is right... maybe not. I'm not sure anymore...

Please review!! I love reviews.


	3. Chapter 2:  The Far Storage Car

**Pretty Mouth and Green Her Eyes**

By: Nicole Jeanine

Disclaimer: The original characters and storyline are mine. I do not believe I am JK Rowling, or that I own _Harry Potter_ in any way, shape, or form. I also do not believe I am JD Salinger and would like to thank him for the use of his title (I switched one word, though).

Summary: Five years after graduating, James Potter returns to Hogwarts as the defense professor. The residing Head Girl, Lily Evans, catches his attention and becomes irresistible yet seemingly unattainable.

**Chapter Two: The Far Storage Car**

All dressed in their work attire, the four Marauders stood at the crowded London train station, which was bustling with businessmen, young mothers, stranded foreigners, and anyone else possibly imaginable. Through the day and night, the lines of passengers passed through the station as they found their platforms and toted their luggage. The group was strangely stopped in the middle of things in between platforms nine and ten, although this seemed unnoticed by the surrounding muggle crowd.

Sirius exhaled and handed James his briefcase, which as of last night, read 'Professor James Potter' in a sprawling script along the outside pocket's seaming. "Here's your briefcase and your lunch money," he said gently to James. "Now you go play nicely with the other kiddies."

"Gee, thanks mum. I'm so glad you came to see me off," James threw back, but silently sighed. He was going to miss this.

"Yeah, funny man, run along now," Sirius said, nudging him toward the concealed false brick entrance.

James held his arms up in protest. "What's the rush? It almost seems like you're trying to get rid of me."

"Yes, well, I've got to make sure you catch the train before I head back to the office, and my lunch break can only be stretched for another half hour or so before I get thrown off the wait list for a new parking spot."

James squinted at them, slightly blinded by the sunlight streaming through the glass ceiling. He cleared his throat and looked to the floor, uncomfortably. "So..." he started, at a loss for words, "this is it then?"

"It's not 'it'. Just..." Peter said lamely in an incomplete rush. "I don't know."

"I think what Peter is trying, yet failing, to say is that we expect no less than a letter a day," Remus stated, smiling.

"Yeah, and no less than that," Sirius said indignantly while scowling at James. "And I'm talking about a _letter_ letter, minimum of three paragraphs."

James laughed. "I'll keep that in mind." They look all look at each other for a moment until finally James shrugged and gave a final nod. "Well, I'm off then." He started toward the wall without turning back for a final glance as Sirius twitched with agitation.

"WAIT!" he shouted, while grabbing hold of Remus and Peter, whom he dragged behind him. "Moony hasn't departed any words of wisdom on you yet! You can't leave without his advice."

James looked with interest toward Remus, who gasped in pain while his sleeve, tightly reigned by Sirius, cut off the blood flow to his lower arm. "What? I don't know what to say."

"Opps," Sirius commented shortly. "No wisdom, no go. Come on James, back to the house." He released the two men and redirected his strength to James' briefcase, prying it from his friend's struggling fingers.

After pondering for a second, Remus had an apparent epiphany. "Okay, I've got something."

"No you don't," Sirius snarled. "Come on, James," he ordered as he began to walk briskly toward the station's exit.

James jogged after his luggage thief and yelled after him, "Sirius, come on. I—" He was cut off by an immense force that, after spinning around rapidly, and enveloped him a rather constricting embrace. "A _letter_, letter every day," James managed to choke out despite his present lack of open air passageways. "I promise."

"Well do you want your departing wisdom or not?" Remus asked wrenching James away from Sirius, who reluctantly let go.

"Alright, hit me with it," James said grinning as he hugged Peter and moved onto Remus.

"Are you all ready?" Everyone nodded as Remus gave James a good luck clap on the back. "No, no, no. Come on, you guys. You've got to brace yourselves, support yourselves in case you fall over in your all-consuming awe of my inspirational ability."

"Consider us braced," James said dryly.

Remus jokingly scoffed. "I don't think that's sufficient. There's a hand rail over there." He smiled at the group's collective eye roll and gestured toward a steel railing about fifteen feet from where they were herded. "Well, go on."

Playing along, everyone walked to the nearest platform and took hold of the germ coated metal safety railing. "Everyone is fully secured," Peter called out.

"Okay, ready?"

Sirius held up his hand. "Wait... okay. I'm ready."

Remus studied them for a second before judging them safe. "Alright, here it is: Don't get fired."

James furrowed his borrow, looking at Remus incredulously. "What the hell kind of wisdom is that?"

Remus merely shrugged. "What? That's wise."

Releasing himself from the guard rail, James gave Remus a sarcastic look while straightening his collar. "Oh yeah, earth shattering stuff there. You're almost ready to start a new religion—a throw pillow company at the very least."

"Ever the comedian," Remus said under his breath.

"But why stop there?" James prodded. "You could get that on a duvet, too."

Remus gave James a slight shove toward the brick wall. "Okay, off with you."

As James waved to them, he walked straight through the brick partition in between platforms nine and ten. Remus turned slightly toward the exit, only to find Sirius studying his face intently.

"You know, I don't think home linens are the best route for you," Sirius advised. "Very unstable market."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

James stumbled out on the other side and found himself face to face with an assortment of his new students, all of whom stared as he passed. One smaller girl standing at the newsstand did a double take, completely froze, and then glanced down at his picture on the cover of _Witch Weekly_ magazine, comparing his photo plastered across the cover to his up-close-in-person look. He subconsciously pulled his suit coat closer around his body and began to fidget with the buttons around his wrist, skeptically glancing at the forming mass around him. They whispered and slowed as he quickly dragged his trunk along the ground, heading for the luggage cars. He decidedly settled on keeping his eyes on the ground instead of looking at all of the faces, which proved a faulty choice as he knocked into a lanky girl with pigtails. She stumbled back and looked over her shoulder to him.

"Terribly sorry," James muttered shortly, hurrying ahead before she could process his face. The last thing he needed was to be mauled and forced into group photographs before he had even started into his new career. Out of the mass around the platform's entrance, he walked with greater ease but still drew attention. "God, I'm an idiot...should have come earlier...before the crowd," he mumbled to himself while approaching the far storage car, which was shaded considerably.

Only two older girls had ventured to the outlying railway car and did not notice as he neared, preoccupied with a menagerie of trunks and storage cases. They both had the upper half of their bodies in the storage space itself, rearranging something, and James saw his chance for a quick escape. He backed behind an unstable tower of crates, hoisted the trunk into a vertical upright position, and grabbed hold of the side, when he heard sudden girlish giggles. He fearfully turned and peered out from his somewhat secluded location, but saw they were still trying to lift one of the oversized trunks into onto the car's base, clearly not aware of his presence.

"Oh my _God_," a one of them laughed, climbing over the platform's edge and onto the closest loading entrance. As she stood in the doorway and leaned out to grab the airborn end of the trunk, the light fell on her, revealing a fair skinned girl dressed in casual blue jeans and a lacy, short-sleeved red blouse, which matched her scarlet colored hair. Her face glowed angelically underneath the sun's light, and entranced James in way he had never experienced before. In a sort of trance, he stopped tugging his trunk nearer to the car's other opening and rested against it, watching her in wonder.

"What'd you pack in this one? An entire beauty supply store, complete with a clerk?" she said in a groan while pulling the trunk into further off the ground. Her friend on the ground giggled and dropped her end, causing the redhead to stumble forward as the trunk fell. This only spurred more laughter, and the ground level girl toppled over in hysteria.

James edged closer and saw the girl on the ground repositioning herself underneath the trunk's end. As she settled into a squatting pose, still laughing, James saw she was slightly ethnic—probably Portuguese—with flowing brown hair that was pulled into a long, sloppy ponytail, trailing past the length of her teeshirt, which seemed made to be longer than it was presented. He finally figured she had tied the lower half of the garment into a knot in the back, so as to show her stomach above the waist of her jeans, but he couldn't judge for sure, as she was too far crouched over. "Okay, on the count of three," she said through the sporadic giggles.

"Okay," the other girl responded. "Wait!" she laughed, but then stopped, feigning seriousness. "Okay, I'm ready."

"Hold on, should I count or should you?"

"You may have the honor."

The squatting girl fell back slightly but caught herself. "Woah. Okay, one—"

"What is that?" the redhead said in mock disgust. "Who's ever heard of a 'count-up'? It's a 'count_down'_."

James softly chuckled at her wit and watched eagerly as they continued arguing.

"Yes, but it's 'on the count _of_ three', in other words 'a count _to_ three'. There's no 'count of one'. That'd just be weird."

"I'd prefer a countdown, personally."

"Oh, well in that case, my apologies," she responded sarcastically, looking over the trunk to her friend before refocusing. "Alright, ready? Three, two, one, go." They pushed and pulled simultaneously and seemed to have success as the brunette pushed the trunk over her head, but she failed to lock her knees and tumbled forward, face first into the ground, throwing the trunk off course. It fell loudly to the ground as they erupted into giggles again.

The redhead attempted to lift it, but James could tell her friend was not going to be of any assistance. Still under the strange effect she unknowingly held over him, he finally decided to walk over to them, forgetting his fame, and spoke calmly. "Need help?"

She glanced up in surprise and dropped her jaw, stupified, while the brunette scrambled off the ground to stand. Letting the trunk fall completely to the ground, the redhead tore her sunglasses from her face and blinked her large green eyes wildly.

James looked to the trunk and then back to the girls, shifting uneasily. "Err, okay." He stood the trunk upright as he had done with his own and then climbed into the storage area with the redhead. When he actually came into the space, he took a moment to balance himself and looked up to see that he was practically on top of her. Breaking their gaze quickly, she stepped back, pinned herself against the door frame, and uncomfortably crossed her arms but then half uncrossed them, unsure of what to do. He shrunk away from her after watching her response and turned back to the trunk, pulling it swiftly into the car.

The brunette weakly pushed another trunk toward him she had already stood erect, as he had previously done. "Erm," she started nervously. "...If you don't mind...?"

He smiled reassuringly and lifted it for her. "Anything else?"

She shook her head and crossed her arms protectively over her chest while looking up at him with a strange expression on her face.

"Alright then." He hopped over the barrier and onto the platform, turning back and offering his hand to the redhead. She took it hesitantly and reflexively crossed her other arm back over herself. Fidgeting, she snapped her loose arm behind her but then realized she needed to grab hold of the opening's side. Supporting herself on the door frame and holding his hand tightly, she jumped to ground and rapidly backed away from him to stand next to her friend.

"Thanks," she said quietly, almost in a whisper, dropping her eyes to the ground briefly when she spoke.

He nodded and held out his hand to her again, politely pretending not to notice their awkwardness. "James Potter, the new defense professor."

Their eyes widened again, and eventually she retook his hand, in a handshake this time. "Lily Evans, the new Head Girl."

He smiled warmly at her while trying to place her name, which he was sure he had heard before. "We know each other, don't we?"

His response came in a rapid stutter. "Uh, yeah—I mean no, or.. uh... no... actually kind of. Not really though. I mean, well, yeah, we—um, we do."

He nodded in apprehension, when the other girl sporadically jutted her hand toward him.

"Mirina McDowell," she said in a rush. He shook her hand, after which they all stood in a charged silence. "Don't worry, though. You're not forgetting me; we've just never met before."

James chuckled slightly at this in an attempt to lighten the tension. She smiled at his laugh and then giggled, rather shrilly. Silence came once again.

"So, seventh years?" he asked, trying conversation again, only to receive a nonverbal, affirmative nod."Well, good luck. Seventh year was by far the toughest for me," he said with a laugh.

Again they both gave high-pitched laughs, still staring at him saucer-eyed.

He sighed. "Well then... why don't you to go find yourselves seats?" he suggested, gesturing toward the train. "Don't want to get stuck standing in the hallway."

"Right," they said together with a final giggle, as they turned and headed for the main cabin car entrance, stumbling slightly while occassionally glancing back to him.

'_Well_,' James thought, as he watched them walk, '_this teaching thing, relating with my students, is going to be more difficult then I thought_.' He returned to his trunk and shoved it into the luggage car before making his way back toward the dreaded crowd, looking at the vast train as he passed. '_Maybe I'll try and climb in a window. That'd be less of a hassle_,' he pondered, laughing at the notion of it. As he studied the train for a few seconds, he realized he was right: it _would_ be less hassle. Proud of his own brilliance, he stopped walking and eyed the row of cabin windows appraisingly, eventually selecting a smaller one, which obliviously led to the hallway rather than to an actual room.

He jumped over the partition, once again, to the boxcar's side and gripped on, supporting himself only on the narrow rim of the window. Kicking his legs in a craze, he managed to pull himself through the undersized window, which seemed to be smaller once he was halfway through. "Oh, crap," he said in painful struggle, in which he was half sticking out of the car, his feet up in the air. His belt buckle was stuck on the latch.

Moving so that his one hand braced him against the hallway's wall, his other hand quickly unlatched the buckle. With a grunt, he regrasped the train's wall with both hands and pulled himself farther through, but found that his belt was sliding off his pants, relentlessly clutching that damned latch. Figuring he would retrieve any lost clothing articles later, he squirmed and pushed harder against the wall. After forcing his hips inside, he lost balance and fell backward onto the floor, leaving his belt hanging from the windowsill. He exhaled in relief and looked up to see an obvious professor standing over him, clearly amused from watching his lame attempted break in.

James held up his hands defensively. "Oh, no. This isn't what it looks like." He extended his hand to the older man. "James Potter, the new defense professor."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Author's Note: Woah, thanks SO much for all the reviews. (starts to cry) I can't believe you all actually liked it... (sobbing now) Thank you SO much (on the edge of hysteria) What could I ever do to repay all of the kindness you've shown me...

Seriously though, as you can probably tell, I wasn't kidding when I said I love reviews, so keep them coming:) On a sadder note, I'll be in Michigan until the day before the next _Harry Potter_ book comes out, so I won't be able to update again for a while yet, but I pinky-swear I'll work on it while I'm away so that I can post ASAP. Hope y'all liked it... REVIEW! PLEASE!


	4. Chapter 3: Compartment People

**Pretty Mouth and Green Her Eyes**

By: Nicole Jeanine

Disclaimer: The original characters and storyline are mine. I do not believe I am JK Rowling, or that I own _Harry Potter_ in any way, shape, or form. I also do not believe I am JD Salinger and would like to thank him for the use of his title (I switched one word, though).

Summary: Five years after graduating, James Potter returns to Hogwarts as the defense professor. The residing Head Girl, Lily Evans, catches his attention and becomes irresistible yet seemingly unattainable.

**Chapter Three: Compartment People**

Still sprawled across the faded carpeting, James shook hands with the man standing above him. This unknown figure was the poster man of the long-legged, broad-shouldered professor stereotype, complete with a tweed blazer. His hair was white and clearly self-cut with an off center part that, rather than depicting youth and rebellion, had a sloppy finesse, aging him considerably.

"Robert Blake, magical creature care," he responded, twisting his eyebrow into a knot. After releasing their handshake, Blake glanced from James to the window. "Interesting choice of entrance. Most prefer the doorways, but whatever suits you."

James rose quickly and grabbed his belt, feeling childish. He studied the belt in his hands and shrugged unsociably as he began to mumble, "There were, err... people... you know?"

Blake's laugh was anything but amicable as he waved to someone walking down the hallway toward them. "The public does tend to congregate in public places."

"Yeah," James said, rocking back and forth on the soles of his shoes, which suddenly appeared uncomfortably adult-like. He wasn't ready for this; he was barely older than the seventh years and definitely did not have the professor sternness. "They were just... you know... staring."

Skeptically, Blake examined him further before accessing, "For your sake, I hope you're more articulate than this."

For an inexplicable reason, his comment enraged James. The gauntlet had been thrown, and James suddenly realized this man reminded him of his father, sounding so condescending, mocking him. James was about to respond and prove his worthiness when a loud voice spoke from over his shoulder.

"Is this the new defense professor?"

James whipped around to find another professor, forming a spaced out academic sandwich with two tweed-covered bread slices and James as the protein and condiments. The younger man visibly jumped backward when he saw James' face. "WOAH. No_ way_. You?"

He stuffed his hands into his pockets defensively, shrinking toward the wall to escape the smothering feeling that was encroaching upon him. "Uh, yeah... me."

"Oh, no no, I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry." The man stretched out his hand and smiled warmly. "Luke Kettleburn."

James immediately liked this colleague more than the first one. Glancing over him, James noticed Kettleburn could only be ten years older than himself, with chestnut colored hair styled in a longer modern shape, flowing into a slight beard that framed his jaw. After a moment, James placed him in his mind: he was new during James' final year. "Arithmancy, right?"

"Only the best subject for the best professor," he joked, in full awareness that few students took his class that weren't forced to enroll. Kettleburn moved around James and continued walking after Blake, who had already started down the hallway, striking James' shoulder hard while passing in a friendly, yet manly, gesture. "Sorry about that. Not '_you_', just, err..."

James realized he was supposed to follow them and waved his hand in an indication of triviality. "No, it's fine. I understand." He looked around to passing people staring out from their compartment windows, frowning and decidedly watching the carpet as it disappeared beneath his feet.

"Yeah?" Kettleburn asked while turning back to James and noticing his strange behavior. Observing the scene, he realized they were the center of attention and exhaled nervously, off balance from the unnerving feeling of being watched. "Hey, um," he said to James as he slowed and hesitantly asked, "do you need a compartment person?"

James looked apprehensively toward Kettleburn. "Compartment person?"

"Uh, yeah, you know, like the person you sit with on the train and make small talk with?" he explained. "I mean, I already have a few, but we could use a new face among us."

Shrugging, James figured he would not get another offer and did not want to sit alone in silence for eight hours. "Erm, sure," he responded, still wary of the strange title, yet happy for the acceptance of officially being someone's 'person'... whatever that meant.

Kettleburn smiled at him, dually earning more brownie points in James' book. "Good. I don't no how much longer I can fake interest in Vector's 'Save the Centaurs' protest rally rantings." When he saw James' expression, he clarified, "Don't worry though, we're not all that dull. Come on."

Together, they walked to a door near the front of the narrow, low-ceilinged train, which jostled on the tracks as they unsteadily departed and came to a constant speed. A small white paper was taped to the outside of Compartment #16, reading 'Professors Only' in a jagged script. Blake and Kettleburn entered in a queue style, James in tow, and upon entering, he saw a assemblage of the lesser known teaching staff.

A thirty-something woman with long black hair and a pale, thin face sat beside the right hand window, positioned opposite a petite sized elder man James assumed to be the same age as Blake. The smaller, more gangly man and Blake shared the left bench and were laughing about something when the man started coughing suddenly. He evidently was surprised to see James, sucking air into his throat in a gasp, yet expelling it outward in a laugh, simultaneously. The woman followed the coughing man's gaze and then looked eagerly to Kettleburn for an introduction.

"Hey, you guys," Kettleburn greeted and turned back to James. "This is James Potter, the new defense professor."

The man stammered momentarily before reluctantly shaking James' hand. "Daniel Vector, astronomy."

Contrastingly, the woman excitedly thrust her hand into James'. "Victoria Thallem, muggle studies," she said with so much enthusiasm, James thought her smile would literally stretch into an all-consuming expression that would overtake the rest of her face.

After a solid minute James ripped his hand away, not phasing her in the slightest.

She batted her eyelids in delirium and aggressively tossed her hair, which fell flat to no avail. "So," she said, attempting to hold his attention for as long as possible. "You're teaching? Oh God, I'm sorry. Sit, please sit." Moving closer to the window, she shuffled herself along the seat.

James went to sit down when Kettleburn sat on the bench's far seat, forcing James to settle between him and Thallem. He smiled at her, nevertheless, and kindly responded, "Yes, I am teaching."

Silence overtook the small room.

"So," Blake started, "another year."

Vector sighed and spoke in a sharp tone, "I, for one, am less than thrilled."

"I hear you there," Blake agreed, nodding until he saw James' curious expression. "Not that this is torture, just—"

"Not always pleasant," Vector cut in, recrossing his legs and straightening his necktie. "Especially the first years. They're too young; I've always said that. They would raise the age requirements if I had any authority around here."

Blake looked devilishly at Kettleburn before snidely commenting, "I'm sure if we lop off a grade, Kettleburn would prefer it be seventh."

Everyone snickered at this, with the exception of James, darting his eyes around in confusion, and Kettleburn, who scowled at them. "Let's not do this again this term," he said coldly to Blake.

"Do what?" James inquired, not understanding.

Kettleburn shook his head while lethally glaring at Blake. "Nothing. It's nothing."

Blake chortled and leaned forward toward James, reminiscent of a gossiping schoolgirl. "It's something alright."

"Don't," Kettleburn warned.

"I have to. I'm sorry."

He scoffed at Blake's blatant disregard for standard politeness. "You're not sorry."

"Well..." Blake trailed off, not discrediting Kettleburn's claim and redirecting his attention to James. "Okay, there's a seventh year Slytherin girl named Allegra Giotonee. You can't miss her—overly talkative, perpetually upbeat, with large brassy yellow hair in tight ringlets."

James nodded, slightly astonished they were gossiping about a student.

Blake laughed harshly, reveling in Kettleburn's displeasure. "She is by far the most annoying, obnoxious, and overall disruptive student I have ever had the misfortune of teaching." He thrust his hand high into the air, rudely imitating her. "'Professor Blake, Professor Blake, I have _another_ question!'— the whole works, you know? Well, she seems to be quite taken, to say the least, with our very own Professor Kettleburn."

Kettleburn stared back sourly. "She's not taken with me. She enjoys my teaching method."

"And enjoys stalking you."

This promoted further anger as Kettleburn's face began to sport a red hue. "She has _never_ followed me."

"That's a lie."

"Okay, well, sometimes we just walk in the same direction for a while. She's never followed me to my rooms or anything like that," he countered, defensively.

Blake raised his eyebrows. "That you know of."

"She doesn't fancy me, so you can wipe that smug look off your face."

"She nearly purposed to you last Valentine's Day," Blake prodded.

"That's because _you_ set her on me! It doesn't count if you egg her on."

Rolling his eyes, Blake snapped back, "Pointing her in your direction after she asks me where you are does not qualify as 'egging her on'."

Thallem finally interrupted the argument, which seemed to James like a rather routine discussion. She said in a parental tone to Blake, "Don't tease him," and, twisting her neck to look around James to Kettleburn, she supportively added, "I believe you."

"Thank you," Kettleburn angrily exhaled. "Don't you two have Slughorn's compartment to scurry off to, anyhow?"

Blake stood with Vector and said, "You lot are just jealous because you weren't handed an invite." Vector and he sniggered giddily as the stepped into the corridor.

"Just leave," Kettleburn shot after them, attempting to have the last word and, ergo, win the debate.

"Fine," Blake said, lingering outside the compartment. "Goodness, why don't you just get out the paddle, Professor, and spank me—no wait. You reserve that punishment only for Miss Giotonee," he added quickly before hurrying to a nearby door.

Kettleburn rose and slammed the sliding door shut before relocating himself to the now vacant bench, still enraged. "You know, I don't like him sometimes."

Thallem looked at him incredulously. "Sometimes?"

This lightened things, and the two older professors laughed. James, however, remained bewildered at their tolerance of the contemptible pair that had exited.

"Why do you sit with them if you don't want to?" James asked.

Kettleburn shrugged while sneering, still mentally fixated on their earlier topic. "He's not all horrible... It's Slughorn's fault really," he summed referencing the power hungry potions professor. "Ever since Blake's son was made governor, Slughorn has been inviting him and Vector to all of his academic parties—you know those, right?"

James nodded vaguely. "I was always invited, but I never went. He didn't want anything to do with my friends; just me."

"Yes, well, he corrupts people. He's just awful," Kettleburn said while watching the farmlands pass outside the window.

Thallem spoke again, moving closer to James, who backed further on the bench, now trapped against the wall, "You know what a student told me? He said Slughorn gave him and an auror's son detention for accidentally spilling a jar of newt, and when they received their punishments, my student had to inventory Slughorn's entire storeroom, while the auror's son was only ordered to attend his next party."

"Uh huh, and that's not the worst thing," Kettleburn continued. They recounted various additional mishaps rotating around Slughorn as the train drifted toward the outlying school and the sun fell beyond the rolling Scottish highlands. Conversation turned to other subjects, and James was left fully satisfied with his choice of 'compartment people', as Kettleburn had described it.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

After their arrival, the professors raced onto the platform to direct the children, filing the first years toward the lake. James followed Kettleburn and Thallem to the carriages to escort the older students into their seats, all the while looking for the two girls he had met at the luggage car. He scanned through countless faces without a trace of red hair, eventually settling on looking for them at the feast instead.

The gossip of his arrival had evidently spread and, though all eyes were on him, they seemed less shocked and more intrigued, which was a pleasant change of pace for James. He stood beneath a street lamp's luminosity in a type of marsh-like park, with mud corroding the sides of his shoes, as he signaled to the incoming carriages, directing the traffic flow. A book fell to the ground in front of him, followed by a girl, who stepped out from the crowd to retrieve it, fashioned in a green striped tie.

She haltingly walked closer to him as he bent over to pick up the large textbook. He noticed the cover 'Advanced Arithmancy, Level 6', and upon studying the girl's face, he realized this was the stalker girl, Allegra Giotonee. The yellow haze from the street light above them only intensified her hair color, making it appear blindingly bright, and James had a difficult time looking at her without scorching his corneas. He stuck the book in her general direction, reflexively squinting.

"Thank you," she said smiling as she took the book from his hands. "I'm so clumsy sometimes," she said while girlishly twisting her feet, forming circles in the mud. Holding her hand up in a gesture while giggling slightly, she explained further, "Butterfingers, you know. It's like I need those gloves you were in the advertisement for. You know, the ones that have that forcefield type leviation spell on them, so if you drop something—what am I saying? You know how they work; you were the spokesperson for goodness sake. Wow, you look so much taller in person, I—Oh! That's my carriage! Bye, or wait!" she said suddenly smiling widely again. "I'll see you in class, bright and early tomorrow morning. Don't be late," she teased, backing away.

James was taken aback by her openness and overall nerve as she waved goodbye and hurried to a carriage near Kettleburn's post. Kettleburn apparently saw her running toward him and ducked into the forest offside the lane, throwing himself behind a thick tree trunk. She remained oblivious to this and climbed into the carriage, which had already set into motion and pulled itself speedily down the lane. James' colleague faltered, stumbling a bit, as he scaled the ditch's barrier he had fallen over behind the tree. He dusted off his jacket and regained his stance on the dirt road, peeling bark pieces from his tweed jacket and brushing nature residue from his now tangled hair.

Laughing, James caught Kettleburn's attention. He merely threw a sarcastic look toward James and waved another carriage off to the castle.

After the students were all headed toward the school, the remaining staff piled into the last carriage and sat in an exhausted silence as the rocky vehicle trembled on the rough terrain. This break lasted briefly, as directly after their ride, they rushed into the castle. Unsure of where they were heading, James trailed after the mass, unfamiliar with the winding hallways they were navigating through. At the end of a narrow, short stairwell, a door led them to the head of the Great Hall where the staff tables formed a half oval shape, the forward-most seat reserved for the headmaster.

Kettleburn sat next to Thallem and tipped other adjacent chair outward to James, who quickly sat in it. In the final two seats closest to the wall, Blake and Vector sat to James' other side after being boxed out near Slughorn, who sat closer to Dumbledore and the more prevalent teachers: McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout.

The older students were settling in their seats, all clustered toward the far doors, where the First Years quickly entered.

"I hate this part," Kettleburn groaned, slouching into his chair in a pout. "Every year, a new song," he commented as the Sorting Hat started its new song from the stool.

"And every year its just as dull," Blake added from James' other side.

Thallem leaned forward over the tabletop and scowled at Blake. "Don't be rude," she demanded. "He works hard on these songs, testing out different rhymes all year long. I appreciate his effort."

"You say that like 'he' is a person," Blake shot back. "It's just a hat, and not even a usable one. Honestly, the raggedy old thing gets more attention than Dumbledore. If I was headmaster, I wouldn't let an article of clothing upstage me."

"Well, that's probably why you're sitting next to the wall and not at the headmaster's place. You have no sense of tradition," Thallem argued, clapping at the end of the song.

McGonagall took her stand next to the stool and called the first child to the front. This particular sorting was rather lengthy, and James took this opportunity to scan the crowd for the two girls. The view was a strange sight for James, and he felt strangely older and out of place as he looked down to the sea of younger students.

He looked with hope to the Gryffindor table, which proved a well made guess. They were positioned at the far end of the table with three other girls and were quietly whispering. The redhead was too far out of sight to see clearly, and James gave up trying to make out her facial details.

Turning to Kettleburn, he tore his mind away from her. "Is there a staff meeting tonight still?" he asked, praying for a negative answer.

Kettleburn laughed quietly. "I would throw myself into the lake if there was. Thankfully, that is tomorrow," he responded while stretching slightly in his seat. "The first day always goes on forever. We need to pick up our class schedules after dinner, and after that, everyone just goes to bed."

James nodded, but then thought back to what Allegra had said earlier. "Don't the students get their schedules tomorrow?"

"Yes," Kettleburn answered simply, curious at James inquiry. "Why?"

"No reason," James said, shrugging off the question.

"No, no," Blake said from James other side. "There's a reason. Why do you want to know?"

James looked around to find all four of them looking with interest to him. "I'm just interested."

"Your interest interests us," Kettleburn said smiling.

James found their pressuring him to answer completely absurd. "Isn't there something else that's more exciting than this?"

Blake scoffed. "We teach. Some days, this is as good as it gets," he said pitifully.

"I just wondered because I met Allegra Giotonee, and she said she was in my first period tomorrow. That's it," James explained shortly, feeling almost interrogated.

Kettleburn nodded. "That's not surprising. She and Miss Evans, the Head Girl, are friends. I know it's weird, the whole Slytherin-Griffyndor thing, but they are. Miss Evans pulls a lot of strings for her friends if they want something she has access to."

Food filled the tabletop and everyone started talking at once. Raising his voice over the crowd, Blake spoke while serving himself off a platter, "Bloody manipulative, that one. You'd never guess it, though. She's so good natured it makes you want to buy a puppy from an animal shelter when she smiles at you."

Vector laughed at Blake's joke and added, "She's also Slughorn's favorite. He always is retelling her jokes—very funny girl, apparently."

"Yes, she's very witty and by far the best student in her year, but she's nauseatingly perfect," Blake said, making a face at the notion of flawlessness. "Nearly straight O's her whole time here."

James stared at her laughing in the distance, with a crossbred feeling that seemed the offspring of excitement and anticipation. Something about her enchanted him, and she was becoming the focus his thoughts, permeating his brain. He didn't want to just be around her, though; this was an entirely different feeling. He wanted to know her, to talk to her—a new concept for James.

After his schooling years, he maintained his same 'love them and leave them' philosophy he had adopted at Hogwarts and ended things with every woman he was involved with before the tenth date. His relationships were structured by this monthly turnover policy, and, although James dated like he breathed, he never found an interest worth pursuing past the fourth week's end. This bachelor lifestyle suited him, though. He and Sirius went out almost nightly to work their charms, despite already having significant others, but their new girlfriends always under the false pretense that _they_, unlike the others before, could change the two men into respectable husbands. Thus far, they had been consistently wrong.

James drifted out of his trance and into reality as Kettleburn asked his opinion on the continuity of the vegetable casserole. He gave a sufficient answer and returned to eating, after which he walked to the staffing common room, still thinking about Lily Evans. Even her name was pretty, like flowers. James thought of his mum's garden, full of lilies, and how mad she would be when Sirius laid in them.

Suddenly, he remembered her. Sirius had called her 'Girl with Flower Name' about a hundred times and had told her how he laid in the lily flowerbed. He grabbed a large folder with his name on it and waved goodnight to the other professors distractedly as the memories flooded back to him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Author's Note: Thank you to those of you who reviewed. Your support is really great, and I deeply appreciate those of you who take time out of your day to read my story. The next chapter will have a flashback and the first day of classes in it, so check back soon!

Happy Harry-Potter-Release-Day, by the way. Love to all.


	5. Chapter 4: A Splash in the Lake

**Pretty Mouth and Green Her Eyes**

By: Nicole Jeanine

Disclaimer: The original characters and storyline are mine. I do not believe I am JK Rowling, or that I own _Harry Potter_ in any way, shape, or form. I also do not believe I am JD Salinger and would like to thank him for the use of his title (I switched one word, though).

Summary: Five years after graduating, James Potter returns to Hogwarts as the defense professor. The residing Head Girl, Lily Evans, catches his attention and becomes irresistible yet seemingly unattainable.

**Chapter Four: A Splash in the Lake**

James hurried through the school's corridors to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, the mud still on his shoes leaving behind a faint track. Unlocking and then opening the doors, he entered an almost vacant room, which only possessed desks piled high toward the ceiling in the far corner, a thick coat of grime across the floor, and a desk angled oddly in front of a massive blackboard. A few flicks of his wand produced soapy cleaning instruments that began to dance a type of ballet as they scrubbed the room's contents thoroughly. Another flick and the furniture straightened itself, filing the desks into rows and lining the desk parallel to the wall.

After crossing through the room, he walked up a half-flight of stairs to his office, which seemed as bare and lifeless as the classroom. James had not thought to bring any personal decorations, but he figured he would write to Sirius for a few paintings, a few bookcases. On the other side of the next door, James entered what would now be his rooms. It was more impressive than he had expected, but not by much: a small table circled by four wooden chairs as a kitchen; a comfortable living space with a couch, armchair, and writing desk; a queen sized bed with blood red sheets opposite a dresser in the bedroom; and a simple bathroom, which, though it was smaller than James was accustomed, would serve its purpose.

Dropping himself heavily into the armchair, James sighed and thought to himself, '_Her, her. Out of everyone I met today, why am I fascinated with her?_' He kicked up his feet and stretched them to rest atop the writing desk's nearby surface, as the memory of the younger Lily Evans overtook him...

- - - - - - - - _Six Years Earlier_ - - - - - - - -

"Okay, your turn," James said in a low voice while smiling amicably at Madam Pince, Hogwarts's elder librarian.

The older witch chuckled and pointed her wand tip downward to a piece of paper. It began to fold over itself in an intricate pattern, and suddenly took a three dimensional shape as it puffed into a blowfish and swam through the air, as if in the ocean.

The pair of them sat behind the library's prestigious, long desk with the past record book, holding information of which books had been lent to which students during the previous year, spread in front of them and losing pages rapidly. James had chosen to take his seventh year apprenticeship underneath Madam Pince in the library, the position holding the least responsibility of the apprenticeships offered to the students. Forced to pick, he figured a job as an Auror was undoubtedly set aside for him by his father, so he settled on negating the pressure of real work for as long as possible. Three times a week, he came in to help with any straightening the bookshelves required and entertained his instructor with new folding spells he looked up especially to show her.

"That's nothing," he said, grinning smugly. "Watch this." He waved his wand in a strange, complex pattern, and the book's next page tore out while taking on the shape of a horse, which galloped over the desktop toward an orchard of small paper apple trees James had fashioned the week prior. It bit into a low hanging apple and swallowed, making Madam Pince clap in excitement, her woodland scene gaining a new member to accompany the existing owl and family of deer.

James leaned back in his chair and extended his arm over the back of her seat. "Top that," he challenged.

She smiled fondly at him and asked in disbelief, "Do you really find all of the spells yourself? I've looked in many books and have yet to see anything that compares to this."

He returned her loving gaze, soaking in her praise, and responded, "I know some people who know some people with connections in certain businesses."

Before she had time to laugh, a disturbance in the narrow aisle ways near the rear of the room sounded loudly. James motioned for her to stay, sprang to his feet, quickly walked into the labyrinth of tall shelving units, traveling swiftly to the noise.

Arriving at the scene, he smiled as he saw the first year girl he had sat next to at the year's first feast. He silently crept behind her and noticed she was scrambling to reshelf books she had obviously knocked to the floor. Glancing left to right to ensure no one had noticed, she sighed in relief, not thinking to look behind her. She reached for a high book and stepped onto the lowest shelf, using it as a step ladder, but her fingers barely brushed against the base of the target book's spine.

James smiled and stepped behind her, leaning forward to whisper in her ear, "Hello, Lily Evans."

Lily fell backward in surprise into James' arms as he caught her in mid-plummet to the floor. He placed her on the ground, and she turned slowly around to face him, stuttering, "H—um, hello.

He grinned charismatically at her. "Looking for something? Or just honing your rock climbing skills?"

She looked embarrassed at the ground and clutched the book in her hands tightly to her chest. "I was just…" she trailed off, waving toward the book on the top shelf. "I'm too short, I guess."

"That's alright. I've always preferred a good height difference," James said, winking wickedly at her.

She blushed.

Happy at her flattery, he stepped forward and made sure to place a hand on her shoulder as he pulled the book down for her. He read, "_Herbology for the Everyday Wizard_. Multi-talented: scaling mountains all the while maintaining a basement apothecary. You're very intriguing, Lily Evans."

Smiling timidly, she explained, "I have a paper for Herbology."

James theatrically frowned, simulating disappointment. "Slightly average, but don't worry. A witch like yourself can afford a few normalities." He chuckled deeply as she blushed further. "So what's it on?"

"Sorry?"

"The paper," he clarified. "What's the topic?"

"Red Siberian dirt and its uses," she responded.

James raised his eyebrows. "Woah, ambitious, too? You're like Multipurpose Windex—a single bottle that can conquer anything. It's always fascinated me how it cleans window glass _and_ tabletops. How can one spray create such a universal shine?"

Lily stared back, confused, and shrugged.

"Anyhow, this book along with the one you're holding won't help you," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. "The only books in here with that subject are in the Restricted Section, which is strictly restricted."

Her expression changed, looking frustrated. "Oh…"

James looked to the Restricted Section's doors, the handles tightly wrapped in chains with a rusty lock dangling from the metal links. "Of course, there are a few things I could do… a few strings I could pull…" He laughed softly at her excitement and took her books. "Meet me in the Charms Hallway after dinner tonight. And not a word to anyone about this, alright?"

She nodded enthuiastically.

James stuffed the books at random onto the shelf and bowed deeply in front of her, taking her hand and kissing it. "Until then, my lady."

Lily giggled and turned, if possible, a deeper shade of pink.

He smiled fondly at her while mentally scheming his break in. "It'd be in your best interest to make yourself scarce. I wouldn't want your virgin eyes poisoned with my wrong doing," he said, winking to her again.

Backing away slowly, she turned down the nearest aisle, waving at him over her shoulder.

At ten o'clock that night, James stealthily peered around the corner to the hallway, and seeing her alone pacing in front of the Charms classroom door, he slipped off his invisibility cloak he had used to retrieve her book undetected. Giving her a sharp whistle, he beckoned her.

Lily turned acutely and, recognizing him, rushed over to the shadowed inlet where he stood.

He held up the book. "As promised."

She gasped elatedly. "Thank you so much," she said, reaching for the book.

James dangled it high above her head, knowing it was out of her grasp. "It's Chapter Sixteen, and make sure you don't list this as a reference in your essay. Just make up a title to source. Sprout'll just think it's out of print." He lowered the book, and she jumped for it, snatching it from his grasp.

Suddenly, she noticed the flaw in their plan. "What'll I do after I'm finished with it?"

James shrugged curtly, looking distractedly to the Charms classroom door. "Just come to my room after curfew one night. I'll put it back for you."

Lily began to protest when James spoke over her.

"I hate to cut this short," he said in a rush. "But I'm a bit tardy for detention." He extended his hand to her face, feeling her delicate cheek and velvety hair, which served it's purpose: She forgot completely about her concern and fell silent, staring at him wide eyed. "I'll see you later."

He walked speedily into the Charms classroom, giving the door a knock as he passed through it. Lily heard his voice reverberate into the hallway, closing her eyes as she listened to his deliciously silky articulation. "Professor," he said. "I'm very sorry. I really wanted to be on time, but there were several, yet valid may I emphasize, reasons I have been delayed."

Sighing, she hugged the book and walked back to the common room, overhearing Professor Flitwick retort, "Why does it seem every night you receive detention, you choose to reenact _The Odyssey_ just before your arrival?"

After finishing her paper a week later, she slipped out of bed carefully one night, not disturbing her roommates as they slept. Sliding down the staircase, she softly crossed through the empty common room and walked lightly to the top of the boys tower. She stood outside the Seventh Year Boys Dorm for a moment before knocking nervously.

Sirius called from inside, "Password?"

Lily formed many half-completed sounds, flustered. James had not given her a password.

She heard footsteps cross to the door from inside the room before Sirius opened the door a crack, raising his eyebrows to her. "You are in luck, young lady. It just so happens our password this week is 'Girl with Flower Name', and seeing as you are said girl, you are not required to give the code." He opened the door fully and stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter. "Welcome to The Palace."

Lily stepped hesitantly into the cluttered room, feeling contaminated as soon as she passed through the doorway. Clothes were draped over many chairs and foot boards while the dresser drawers had apparently gone searching for their contents, strewn haphazardly across the floor. The then empty dressers appeared as though they were in a war zone with many broken shelving pieces and pictures displayed arbitrarily to cover holes that had been punched in its surface during wrestling matches the boys undoubtedly had. Curling up along the room's baseboards, the carpeting was simply too disgusting to look at.

Tearing her eyes away from the disorder, she saw Remus was the only one sitting up with Sirius. He was wearing a towel on his head as women do at beauty parlors, clearly having just finished his nightly shower. "Hey, Lily," he greeted, questioningly.

"Hi," she said before the inevitable silence set in. "Err, is James here?"

"Yes he is," Sirius said politely. "I'll fetch him for you." He grabbed a pillow off the bed he had sat on, and walked over to the bed alongside the door, whacking his pillow hardly on the sleeping figure in a rather savage manner. "PRONGS! Wakey, wakey! Make yourself decent for our company," he shouted.

James flung his own pillow at Sirius, knocking him into the wall. "What's going on?" James asked in a daze, pulling himself into a sitting position.

Sirius rose from the floor, angry. "You just made a death wish," he snarled, taking his pillow off the floor and smacking it into James' head, which sent James flying onto the floor at Lily's feet.

He coughed and clutched his head in pain. "Bloody hell," he muttered, looking up to find Lily watching him. "Oh, hello again," he said, suddenly aware of his attire. He sat on the edge of his bed and awkwardly pulled the sheets over his boxer shorts. "I would have dressed if I'd known you were coming."

"I'm sorry. You said just come, so I didn't—"

James shook his head at her. "No, don't apologize. Do you have it?"

Lily nodded and extended the book to James.

Sirius was faster than James and rudely ripped the book from her hands. "Ooo," he sounded, teasingly. "This is a bad book. James, are you abusing your apprenticeship? Sneaking around in the Restricted Section after hours with underage girls?"

He took the book and struck Sirius with it. "She needed it for a paper. I was being a good Samaritan."

Remus scoffed. "How good of you, stealing illegal books."

James rolled his eyes and turned back to Lily. "You didn't tell anyone, did you?"

"I'll give you a hundred galleons if you run and tell McGonagall right now."

Lily ignored Sirius's offer and shook her head 'no'.

James smiled and touched her hair again. "Good girl."

"Oh yes," Remus said sarcastically. "The right choices that have been made here are overwhelming. You two are ready to start the Upstanding Citizen Youth Group, aren't you? Take my advice: stay away from James and Sirius," he said, specifically addressing Lily. "They're very bad."

Sirius looked appalled. "Don't group me with this criminal. I would never disobey set regulations."

"Let me step out of the way as the lightning strikes you down," Remus jeered, moving pointedly away from the window.

"Alright you guys," James said as Sirius opened his mouth, ready to give Remus a snappy response. He refocused on Lily, and said, "Thank you for returning this."

Lily smiled happily. "You're welcome."

James yawned. "Well, goodnight. I'd walk you to the door, but…" he trailed off, referencing the sheets.

"Goodnight," she said blushing while hastily exiting the boys' room.

Remus called out the doorway, "Bye Lily."

"BYE!" Sirius shouted loudly—so loudly in fact, that it awoke Peter.

He jolted upright and looked around in a frenzy. "What? Who's there?!" Peter demanded, searching their quarters wide eyed.

Sirius stared at his friend's remedial sounding outburst in disbelief. "Damn you're daft."

- - - - - - - - _Present Time_ - - - - - - - -

James snapped awake, finding that he had fallen asleep on the armchair. When he straightened himself, he noticed a very large kink in his neck, no doubt the result of his estranged sleeping posture. Seeing the clock, he forgot his injury and jumped to his feet: he had fifteen minutes until the first bell. He raced to the bathroom and seemed to partake in a triathlon, the first leg as the shower, the second as the comb, and the third as the toothbrush. He hurdled himself through his office and down the stairs to his classroom, where most of his students were already sitting in their seats, chatting amongst themselves.

He straightened his clothes and walked calmly to the front, taking out the class roster from his folder. The bells rang loudly from above the school's clock tower, signifying nine o'clock and the start of the year's first class. "Okay everyone, settle down," he called, and to his surprise, the class fell instantaneously silent.

"Well... hello. I'm James Potter, for those of you who don't already know. I'll be filing the Defense Against the Dark Arts position for this year... I guess I'll start with taking roll, then," he finished, deciding to add a authoritative throat clearing cough to give off the impression that he was a natural born teacher.

As he called off the roll, he realized his class was full of seventh year Gryffindors and Slytherins, and he excitedly looked around to find Lily Evans sitting at a desk in the back corner with Mirina McDowell. The attractive boy sitting in the row in front of theirs had leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs, while whispering to the girls. As they laughed at his joke, James felt jealous; if he had just been younger, he could have been that man, making her smile. He breifly thought he should say something to ruin the boy's moment with her, but responsibly decided against it. "Alright, I don't really have a lesson plan, so I thought I'd see were you all were before planning any lessons."

Allegra Giotonee's hand shot high into the air.

'_That _is_ a bit obnoxious_,' James thought, before calling on her. "Yes, Miss Giotonee?"

"We had just finished simple healing charms," she said, all too sweetly. "In case of an injury."

James nodded. "Very well, but that's not what I had in mind. Everyone stand up and line yourselves against the blackboard," he said while walking to the opposite side of the room and waving his wand to clear the desks away to form a large aisle that led to where he was standing. "Alright, starting with Miss...?"

The girl he was looking at gave her name. "Braden Ardsley."

"Yes, starting with Miss Ardsley, you all will come up one by one and hit me with an offensive spell."

The class broke into a disconcerted whisper, making sure they heard their assignment correctly.

Allegra raised her hand again, not waiting for him to address her before asking, "What if we hurt you?"

James merely shrugged. "I can handle myself. Any spell you want, just not the Unforgivable Curses. Don't be shy."

The class continued to rustle while Braden Ardsley stepped onto her side of the aisle way, giving her wand a slow wave. "_Expelliarmus_."

James flicked his wand quickly and blocked her spell. "Very good. Remember, though, if your spell can be countered before it reaches your opponent, it's not effective. Next," he said, as the next boy came into position.

The following few students performed simple stunning spells, which he blocked with ease. His mind drifted back to Lily, and he saw her standing with Mirina and the boy that was whispering to them earlier at the end of the line, talking to each other. After fifteen students sent him the basic binding, stunning, and disarming charms, a stocky Slytherin boy transfigured a sword out of a desk leg and waved it hesitantly in James direction, not wanting to injure him.

"Very good, very creative," James complimented, levitating the weapon and sending it into the wall, where it stuck erectly out of mortar between the stonework. "Five points to Slytherin." At this, the Gryffindors made a collective distressed sound, offended they were not the first to receive house points.

"Let Lily have a go. She'll do this right," Mirina said, pushing Lily out of line.

Lily put her hands up and attempted to retake her place at the line's end. "Oh, no. I don't want to cut everyone," she said, only to be shoved into the aisle way in front of James by her fellow housemates. She smiled shyly at him and looked back to everyone else, who yelled out to her and whispered excitedly.

Whispering Boy, as James had named him, was heard above the rest: "Yeah, Lily!"

She held up her wand and then raised her eyebrows to James, smiling coyly.

James smiled back, but when she failed to do anything, he wondered what she was intending.

Lily dropped her wand tip toward the floor and turned back to Mirina, grinning. The other students laughed feverishly and moved to ensure an adequate view of the duel.

He realized she was attempting to psych him out and readied himself, wondering how good she was at magic. '_Professor Blake certainly spoke highly of her_,' he reminded himself, beginning to feel venerable.

With a sharp flick of her wand, she said, "_Abicio_."

James barely heard her before he was blinded by a golden light and thrown backward through the tall glass window he had been standing in front of, shards of glass falling onto the lawn below. This did not seem to slow him much as he spiraled further from his class and hit the ground's lake with a large, painful clap. His body continued rotating rapidly, though he could not extend his limbs to try to slow himself, as he was still numb from breaking the water's surface tension. After rolling into an subaquatic forest of seaweed, he confirmed that he was indeed in underwater and paddled forcefully to the top, toward the air.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In the classroom, everyone stood in quiet shock before rushing to the window just in time to see a meteoric splash in the lake. Lily was the first to run from the room in alarm, and the remainder of the class sprinted after her. They reached the lake's sandy shore just as he had begun crawling through the shallow waters, soaking wet.

A strong wave caused him to lose his footing and washed him ashore, where he started to stand, shaking violently. "That's very nice, Miss Evans," he said in a wavering voice. "Well done. Five points to—" his speech broke suddenly as he collapsed onto the ground, face up and still disoriented, "Gryffindor."

Several of his female students pushed their way to the front of the crowd and knelt around him, all speaking at once and claiming a different appendage to nurse.

"Are you alright?"

"Do you need CPR? I'm certified."

"You'll never dry with wet robes still on."

"Let me help you with the buttons."

James turned onto his side in a panic at the girls' flailing arms. "No, no. I'm alright," he panted while he tried to sit up, wrestling the surrounding teenage girls away as they clawed at his clothing. "Thank you, I'll be fine," he said reassuringly.

He glanced to Lily who was standing slightly away from the huddle around him, looking apologetic. Breathing heavily, he grabbed a girl's sleeve near his face and wiped the water from his eyes. "Sorry, I hope you don't mind."

She squealed in delight.

"Well," he said, standing in a haze. "I'd say that's enough excitement for one day. Defense is over; you're all dismissed. Miss Evans, meet me in my office. I'll be up in a minute."

The group of girls still hovered around him, pretending to touch his arm in concern as they felt his biceps through his damp, clinging shirt. After assuring them of his wellbeing, he made his way to his office, the soles of his shoes squirting water onto the floor with every step.

When he entered, he saw her sitting in the chair opposite his own on the other side of the desk. She rose quickly and spoke, "Before you say anything, I didn't mean to do that. I'd never tried the spell, and I didn't think I was even pronouncing it right. Honestly, I didn't think it would work—"

"Dare I say, it did. Well." James glared at her. "I think you knew exactly what you were doing."

"I didn't! I swear. I'm so _so_ sorry."

James looked over her, letting his heart get the better of him. She was too beautiful to exist, with her soft hair cascading gently past her shoulders while covering part of her face. He sighed, wringing out the bottom half of his shirt, adding to the puddle already forming around his feet. She looked away uncomfortably as he finished unbuttoning his shirt and wrenched it off, showing off his toned arms and stomach through the thin material he still wore. Sitting in his chair, clad only in an undershirt and dress pants, he faced her.

"You're very good at defense."

She squirmed in her chair under his gaze. "Thanks."

Leaning back, he studied her face and then concluded, "Possibly too good for your own sake."

"If you want to give me detention, just say—"

"I'm not going to give you detention. Don't worry. As I said, that was very impressive. Horrible of you to do to me on my first day here, but nevertheless impressive. Have you thought about being an Auror?"

She looked surprised at his suggestion, but seemed to feel a wave of guilt. "I didn't mean to send you into the lake. It was just supposed knock you over, I swear."

He held up a hand silencing her. "Don't worry. I am intact," he said, giving her a small smile. "You'd make a good Auror."

Blushing slightly, she shook her head. "I'd always thought of being a mediwitch. You know, work at a war hospital or something."

"It'd be a waste."

She shrugged indefinitely and looked at her hands.

James sighed. "Alright, just think about it. Well, I've got to shower and change before next period, so unless you want to stick around for that, you'd best run along," he teased, winking at her.

Immediately after she left, his jaw dropped, astonished at himself. '_What the hell am I doing? I just winked at my _student_. God, I'm going to get fired again,_' he thought as he drew another shower for himself. Stripping down and stepping under the water, he determined that he would set up a inanimate target for the students' hexes next period, not wanting to shower for a third time that day.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Author's Note: Sweet tyke in a manger, that took FOREVER to write! One of my reviews said James' "hotness" was lacking. Thus, I give you wet James, the sexy professor whose shirt clings to his muscles. Hot enough for ya?

In a side note, pardon my Latin: I've looked at a few translation books and "abicio" is supposed to have the effect of the English "away". Anyone with insight into this matter, please review and let me know how to say it correctly.

Lots of love.


	6. Chapter 5: The Three House Theory

**Pretty Mouth and Green Her Eyes**

By: Nicole Jeanine

Disclaimer: The original characters and storyline are mine. I do not believe I am JK Rowling, or that I own _Harry Potter_ in any way, shape, or form. I also do not believe I am JD Salinger and would like to thank him for the use of his title (I switched one word, though).

Summary: Five years after graduating, James Potter returns to Hogwarts as the defense professor. The residing Head Girl, Lily Evans, catches his attention and becomes irresistible yet seemingly unattainable.

**Chapter Five: The Three House Theory**

The loud bell clanged from its position atop the school's front steeple at the end of Thursday's classes. Quills began scratching furiously onto the parchment pieces as James' class of third year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs raced to finish their essays.

"Alright, time's up," James called, standing from behind his desk. His first four days of educating had flowed smoothly after his unpremeditated swim in the school lake. Once his fourth period on Monday had released, Kettleburn and Thallem came to his classroom with an extra coffee, and together they chatted over a few rounds of caffeine, until walking to the staff meeting.

Blake and Vector sat a few rows ahead of them, and instead of minding Dumbledore's announcements, James and Kettleburn amused themselves with changing the colors of their colleagues shoes. At first Blake and Vector were oblivious to this, but after dropping his pen, Blake's shoes turned to purple as he fished around the carpet in search of his writing utensil. He nearly screamed and tugged roughly on Vector's shoulder, but the pair of them could not figure it out—that is, until Kettleburn finally burst into giggles, no longer able to control himself, which led to a long chase through the then dark hillsides after the meeting had adjourned. Under the cover of night, James could hardly contain his joy as he shot playful hexes at Blake from a treetop he and Thallem had climbed to, and in that moment, James came to a conclusion: He enjoyed teaching, and he was determined to hold on to this career.

"Please pile your papers on the corner of the desk there," he called as no one had moved to stand after his previous statement, their heads still bent over the desktops. Slowly they finished and filed to James' desk, piling their papers into a high stack.

One boy spoke after turning in his assignment, "When will they be graded?"

He shrugged in response. "Err, I don't know. Soon?"

"So when exactly?" a female student from the other side of the desk repeated.

James looked to the girl incredulously. "When I'm finished with them."

Another girl slowed and said, "So, like, next lesson? or before then?"

"Professor McGonagall posts our marks outside her door on Saturday afternoon," the original boy commented, glancing suggestively between James and the stack of essays.

"Sunday would be okay, too," a blond toothy girl added as she slung her bag over her shoulder and stepped next to blackboard.

A gradual mass had formed around James' desk and began calling out questions about his grading policy. James held up his hand, and yelled over them, "I'll grade them when I grade them!"

This silenced the comments toward him, but not the ones about him, and the group muttered amongst itself, looking distastefully to James, as it filtered into the hallway.

James exhaled agitatedly and turned his back to the door, not seeing the two girls slip into the room. He stretched his hands high above his head after erasing the board and flexed his muscles, examining his biceps as if he were alone. Pulling his tie away from his neck, he sighed and turned to his desk, blindly reaching for the stack of papers, but instead of grabbing the parchment, his hand landed on something covered in wool.

Mirina McDowell had perched herself on the corner of his desk, but jumped off in surprise after he accidentally squeezed her thigh. She straightened her skirt and looked to him, horrified yet oddly intrigued, as he started stuttering.

"I—I'm so sorr—so sorry. I didn't hear... um, hear you come in," he apologized, sheepishly taking the pile of papers he had intended to put in his desk drawer before the incident.

She smiled uncomfortably and waved her hand. "It's fine, really." Her hand combed through her long hair as she looked to Lily Evans and raised her eyebrows.

"Well," James said, unsure of what they were up to. "Good afternoon girls."

They smiled back without a response, and this suddenly seemed familiar to James.

He ran a hand through his hair and looked at them suspiciously, knowing they would not say anything unless he specifically asked them. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Mirina looked to Lily to answer his question, and Lily looked to Mirina. After a succession of discreet hand gestures, motioning for the other to explain their visitation, Mirina finally spoke: "Lily has something she wants to ask you."

James turned to Lily, who elbowed Mirina. Mirina elbowed her in return, and James knew he had lost their attention.

"What did you want to ask me?"

Lily looked hesitantly to him before responding in a quiet voice, "Um, you know what you asked me about on Monday? About the Auror... thing..." she trailed off, looking to her friend again, who nodded encouragingly. "I was wonder—"

"We," Mirina corrected. "_We_ were wondering if you could give us extra lessons."

James looked back and forth, studying each of them. Lily tucked her hair behind her ear while Mirina tossed hers coquettishly, both awaiting his answer. "Are you... sure?" he asked in disbelief. "I mean, if you're serious about it, then alright. But... what exactly would I teach you? You're both already more than capable."

"Oh, you know, Auror things," Mirina said, leaning assertively over the desk toward him. "You've been trained, and we're going to be trained, so... You know, a head start or something," she finished, winking in a flirtatious fashion.

James ignored Mirina's gaping shirt and looked to Lily. "Aurors? You seemed less than thrilled by the concept on Monday, Miss Evans."

Lily avoided his gaze, squinting as she stared out the newly mended window on the far wall. "I'm not entirely decided yet," she said apathetically.

"Yeah?" he asked, transfixed by her silhouette against the sunset.

"Yeah, but you and I can convince her, right?" Mirina teased puckishly, giving Lily a playful push while climbing backward, so that she was sitting on the front desk. "We're going to train together, then fight off all the Deatheaters side by side, always and forever," she tagged girlishly onto the end of her statement.

James chuckled softly, remembering his and Sirius's plan to do the same—funny how that one turned out. He walked around to the other side of his desk and lounged casually on edge, absorbed in the youthful atmosphere surrounding the younger girls.

"No husbands or anything? Just you two?"

"Yep," Mirina said happily as Lily rolled her eyes. "Boys are stupid, and men just come and go."

"This is true," James agreed, smiling at Mirina as she continued.

"It's just going to be us. And we'll have houses right next to each other, so that we can lean over the fence every morning with our coffees. Every Wednesday will be tennis day." She gestured toward James. "You, of course, are invited to live in the house across the street and father our children, so that our kids will be sisters."

"Eww," Lily laughed, crossing her arms over her chest, embarrassed. "She doesn't mean that."

James feigned a hurt expression. "I'm being evicted?" As they giggled, James made up his mind. "Okay, so these lessons. When will they be?"

"Saturday," Mirina announced, but hastily added, "If that's alright for you."

He nodded. "At three, let's say?"

"Perfect," she said, and bounced off the desktop, flashing him a winning grin as they exited.

"Goodbye, Professor," Lily called over her shoulder, her hair catching the dimming sunlight as she turned her head to speak. James stared wordlessly at the crimson glow haloing her face.

Mirina leaned back into the doorway from the outside corridor. "Bye, see you Saturday."

"You'll see me tomorrow," James rectified, watching them leave, their feet fumbling schoolgirlish-ly as they walked closely together. "Second period, correct?"

He heard an incomprehensible sound from them as they traveled further the door, and he sighed. Another lesson to plan before the weekend... how exciting. Strangely though, he was excited and found himself eagerly anticipating the next day's classes when he would see Lily Evans once more. James was fully aware of his need to be hands-off with them, but every time she came within a certain radius of him, he couldn't take his eyes from her. But it was perfectly fine to look, right? That was all he was doing, just looking. It was no different from looking at a rock, or at a vegetable garden.

His job was to _look_ after his students, which is exactly what he was doing: _looking_. James submerged himself in his rationalization as he took a red quill from his desk, ready to grade his first assignments.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

James slept soundly and woke early before the daylight broke, carefully grooming himself... for no one in particular... and then took his class of first years on a brisk morning nature walk, using the dense foliage for target practice as the small pupils perfected their aim. He lost track of the hour, and, dismissing them in a hurry, he ran into the castle to reach his classroom by the next bell. On his way, he passed Kettleburn's classroom and decelerated, drawn to the loud voices coming from the room.

"What do you want me to do about it?" he heard Kettleburn ask, clearly outraged.

"Well, I don't know, do I?" a higher voice retorted, angrier than Kettleburn's. "You're the one with the plans and self righteous opinions. I can't read your mind!"

James peered around the half closed door and saw his co-worker standing in an empty room with Allegra Giotonee, who was extremely upset.

"Can't you at least give me the assignments early?" she asked, and James heard her voice start to falter.

A loud sigh echoed around the walls and Kettleburn spoke in a softer voice. "Don't cry. Look, I'm sorry for your loss, but you can't fall apart over this."

"My other professors have completely omitted my exams I'll miss while I'm away at the funeral," she asked, pleading with him. "I'll make up anything, just tell me what I need to study on my own."

"Your other professors shouldn't have done that, and I having a hard time believing they did. You need to keep up with your schoolwork. I mean, for Christ's sake, it's just a fish."

The thick tension leaked into the hallway where James still stood.

"Just a fish?" she whispered before bellowing, "JUST A FISH?"

"Yeah, JUST A _FISH_!"

She started sobbing, and footsteps sounded loudly as the door lashed into James face. He stumbled back into the far wall, crashing onto the hard stonework as his nose broke into two. Allegra did not seem to notice and ran into the nearest bathroom. James opened his eyes and saw Kettleburn standing before him, muttering a healing charm to stop the blood flow.

"What was that?" James asked in a nasally tone from the floor, still immobile from the collision.

"I don't bloody know!" Kettleburn shouted, walking furiously into his classroom. "It's one thing after another with her. She's fucking mental! IT'S A BLOODY GOLDFISH!"

James recovered from his slight concussion and entered the room, closing the door behind him as he forgot about his own class. "She's having a funeral for her goldfish?"

"Evidently," Kettleburn sneered, throwing a desk drawer shut with rage. "And now I'm supposed to excuse her from her assignments for a week just so she can have her time to 'grieve'. It's a fish, just throw it in the loo and flush it!" He placed his hands on his hips and paced angrily throw the rows of desks.

James shrugged, not knowing what to say. "A goldfish?"

"A goldfish," Kettleburn repeated, spitting as he did so. "From her father. She's said she had it for a year. I didn't bloody cry when my own mother died, and she's sobbing over a fucking fish she's had a year."

"Well, that explains it, doesn't it?" James asked leaning against the wall, feeling his nose to check Kettleburn's mending technique.

Kettleburn rounded on him. "What did you say?"

"Her father," James said, only to receive a blank stare. He sighed and continued, "Antonio Giotonee, a pet shop owner tortured to death by Regulus Black about, I don't know, ten months ago. Come on, that was all over the papers: 'Ruthless Regulus Slays Animal Seller'... It's not about the fish—well, actually it's really _really_ about the fish."

Kettleburn began pacing again, stopping alongside his desk. He kicked it with all of the force he could rally, and it bashed heavily in the wall. "Fuck."

James' face contorted into a strange expression as he watched Kettleburn cover his head with his hands. "You two seem to have some issues."

He glanced back to James, glaring. "Keep your nose in your own business."

"I'd like to, but she seems to have brought my nose into the middle of things. I'm likely to be disfigured after this," James said, his hand tracing a slanted line askew from his nose bridge. He tapped his wand to his face in an attempt to reconstruct his face without looking into a mirror, not wanting to see himself in a potentially unattractive state.

"I'm sorry about that," Kettleburn sighed, slouching into one of the seats near the door. He looked to the clock and back to James, furrowing his brow. "What the hell are you doing here, anyhow? I thought this went without saying, but Dumbledore prefers if you at least supervise your class if you aren't going to teach it."

"Oh, right," James said, rising and rushing down the hallway. He sped up the staircase and turned down his hallway, breaking into a sprint. He threw his door open, finding the class of seventh year Slytherin and Gryffindors chattering loudly. A silence fell over the crowd as he walked into the classroom sporting a very windblown look.

"Alright, sorry I'm late. There was a... an incident," he said as they all stared at him, open mouthed. "What's wrong?" James asked, wiping his cheek and finding dried blood on his hand. "Oh, that. Just a broken nose, nothing to worry about. So..." he said, sitting behind his desk, "onto roll then. Everyone return to your seats."

The majority of the class moved leisurely after a moment, but the back corner remained sprawled disorderly amongst the turned desks.

"Everyone, please," James called to where Lily sat with her friends. They giggled insubordinately and turned to face forward, Whispering Boy still sitting atop the back most desk. This angered James, not because he was disobeying, but because he was disobeying in the way the adolescent James Potter would have to catch a girl's attention.

James raised his eyebrows to the boy, who returned James look. "If I have to ask again, detention, Mister...?"

"Nathaniel Rockwell," Whispering Boy responded, smiling smugly to Lily as he sat in the chair next to hers. Mirina turned from in front of them and mouthed something to him. He responded, setting James on his last nerve.

'_Okay, just relax. Don't do anything primitive_,' James thought firmly before looking down to his class roster. "Quiet while I call your names," he said, looking pointedly toward Whispering Boy.

Halfway through the list, a loud laugh came from the back corner, and James looked up to find Whispering Boy meet his gaze and insincerely say, "Oh, sorry."

The class let out a few soft laughs. James' jaw tightened, but he was determined to not show his annoyance. '_No_,' he thought suddenly. '_I should be annoyed, and I should say something. Kettleburn didn't have a problem telling Miss Giotonee off. No more empty threats._' "Detention, Mister Rockwell," he said, letting his anger seep openly into his words.

Whispering Boy did not respond, but looked angrily to his desk.

"But, sir—" a boy in the front row started to defend, when James stood.

"The next person who so much as giggles will accompany Mister Rockwell Saturday night," he said loudly. Everyone looked away from him, picking a point on the ceiling to stare at or digging through their bags in search of their textbooks. "Page forty-five. Read, Mister Rockwell," James added bitterly while writing the page number on the board.

No sound came from the class, until a female voice spoke: "Sir, the quidditch game is Friday night, and Nathaniel's the starting—"

"DETENTION!" James shouted, angry at the mention of Whispering Boy's name. Spinning around and looking to see who he had punished, he searched the faces before he noticed Lily's eyes welling with tears.

"Sorry, sir."

'_Okay, that was overkill._' he thought. Regretfully he looked to the pair of them, wishing he could erase his detention-giving-rampage.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

What had he been thinking? Detention?! He didn't give detentions, he served them. Completing his third lap around his classroom, he failed again to find anything for them to do as punishment. '_Maybe that could be their punishment_,' he thought. '_Making a list of punishments for future detentions_.'

Suddenly there was a flash of green light, and a large figure rolled from the fireplace. James shrieked and jumped onto a desk, whipping out his wand, but then recognized his intruder.

He pocketed his wand and retook his stance on the carpet. "Jesus Christ," he gasped, still out of breath from the original fright.

"Close, but no wafer," the man said, standing up and shaking the hair from his eyes. "It's Sirius Black, or have you forgotten about me altogether?"

"Sirius, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, I was in the neighborhood and decided to stop by to thank you for your long, heartfelt note. Really, receiving it just made my day," Sirius spat sarcastically. James winced as he withdrew a fortune cookie sized paper scrap from his overcoat pocket. "Sirius," he recited, "Send decorations for office. James." Sirius wadded up the paper and threw it roughly to the floor. "Not 'love- James', not 'best wishes- James', not even 'thinking of you- James'. Just 'James'!"

"I love you, Paddy," he said, looking to Sirius with his infamous newborn-puppy-eyes.

"Don't give me that look. I invented that look."

James continued staring at Sirius.

"Knock it off."

He stared harder.

Sirius's resistance depleted, and he ran over to James, leaping into his arms. "I miss you so much," he said, pitifully crushing James into a strange position on the floor. "Remus is _so_ bossy, and Peter doesn't ever want to play with me."

"Get off," James muttered, fighting off Sirius's grip.

After a short wrestling match, he and Sirius sat down in a couple of stray chairs. Sirius had demanded an action by action replay of James new career, and James eagerly reported, glad for someone to talk openly with.

"So, there's one thing we haven't talked about yet," Sirius said, appraising James lesson planning notebook. "How much did you miss me? I'm mean are we talking crying hysterically at night while clutching your pillow, or just an occasional, 'Gee, I wish Sirius was here to scope out the amazingly hot underage girls with me.'"

"I do not 'scope out' my students," James lied.

Sirius studied his face for a second before smiling. "You total slut."

James threw his hands in the air. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, I think you know. Professor Potter has wandering eyes, doesn't he? Ooo," Sirius cooed teasingly. "You're in trouble."

"I resent that," James said. "I am an excellent teacher."

"You can't teach."

"I _so_ can."

Sirius laughed. "You can't be authoritative. Remember the time I asked you to tell off those kids who were knocking on our door all night? What do I see when I get off work that night? You're in the hallway with them, ringing Miss Jeckel's doorbell and running off into _our_ apartment—or wait, what did you call it? Oh I remember: 'base'."

"I was lonely, waiting for you to come home all day. You're just jealous because I made new friends, and you didn't want to get phased out."

"Would you really phase me out for a group of thirteen year old illiterates?"

"Maybe I would."

Sirius snickered at the thought. "Maybe I'll phase you out. See if I haven't given away your old room by the time school's out and you come back home."

James raised his eyebrows challengingly. "Who says I'm coming back home?

Sirius called his bluff with an air of nervousness, afraid to lose his roommate. "You're coming back. Where else have you got to go?"

"For your information, two girls in my class have offered me a lot in a three house _cul-de-__sac_, where there'll be a fistful of James Juniors running around."

Sirius rolled his eyes and laughed. "Don't fall for the three house theory. It never works out."

"Like you know firsthand," James scoffed.

"As a matter a fact, I do," Sirius protested indignantly. "Unfortunately, the Rainné twins had limited funds, and the whole thing fell apart. When I tried to back out, they decided it'd be best to detain me so I could fulfill my part of the arrangement. I ended up chained in the basement of a duplex for a week and used only for procreational reasons, which is not as glamorous as it sounds."

"You're so full of it."

"Nu-uh," Sirius said, grabbing a handful of grassy grains from his pocket and throwing them into the fireplace, preparing to floo to their London apartment to make Remus's midnight curfew. "You remember that week last May when I said I went to my cousin's wedding."

James' mouth fell open in shock. "You can't be serious."

"Of course I'm Sirius," Sirius said, a 'you-must-be-an-idiot' look playing across his godlike facial features.

James groaned at the cheap joke as Sirius stepped onto the hearth in front of him.

"Oh, come off it," he called just before disappearing into the green flames. "You know it's funny."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Author's Note: Sorry it took so long to update, but my dog fell down the stairs last week and is in surgery today for a broken knee, so I've been tied up with that. I don't know if y'all have ever heard of the "three house theory" or not, but regardless, I hope you liked this chapter... let me know...

Thanks so much for the previous reviews. They really help me to write, so please leave more—lots and lots more!

Get ready for Friday night poker in the teacher's lounge, the first Saturday lesson, and detention (I know, so cliché) in the next chapter! Much love to everyone.


	7. Chapter 6: Detention or Bust!

**Pretty Mouth and Green Her Eyes**

By: Nicole Jeanine

Disclaimer: The original characters and storyline are mine. I do not believe I am JK Rowling, or that I own _Harry Potter_ in any way, shape, or form. I also do not believe I am JD Salinger and would like to thank him for the use of his title (I switched one word, though).

Summary: Five years after graduating, James Potter returns to Hogwarts as the defense professor. The residing Head Girl, Lily Evans, catches his attention and becomes irresistible yet seemingly unattainable.

**Chapter Six: Detention or Bust!**

Friday night held the tradition of 'Poker Night' in the teacher's lounge. Most of the players were the male teaching staff, as the women took little interest in their card games. James sat at a round table between Kettleburn and Blake, across from Vector, Slughorn, and the school caretaker, Filch, while the table next to theirs sat more of their colleagues. James, however, took little notice of them and concentrated on the hand he had been dealt.

"Anyone got any interesting stories so far?" Blake asked, establishing himself in James' mind as the gossip of the group.

Kettleburn sighed and looked over his cards. "Miss Giotonee's fish died."

"No, no. I said _interesting_. Your little girlfriend's problems are of no concern to me," Blake laughed.

"Her father gave it to her just before he was killed, and she's left to give it a proper burial next to his grave this week," Kettleburn said, glaring slightly. "She's very upset about the whole thing."

"Well," Blake said, tossing a few sickles to the center of the table, "that's a tad over dramatic, and thus, more promising than I thought. Continue."

Kettleburn put his cards on the table after James raised. "I fold. She's having her teachers omit her assignments while she's gone, and I, as tactful as I am, refused and told her it was just a fish. Well, she started sobbing, threw the door open to leave just as Potter was walking past. Split his nose right in two."

"No way," Slughorn chortled, the excess blubber on his neck jiggling. "Now that's funny."

"I fail to see the humor," James responded, raising again as the bet came around to him. "Took Madame Pomfrey an hour to properly rebuild my nose bridge. Well, I was clearly knocked senseless. I ended up giving Lily Evans detention in my hysteria."

Slughorn threw his cards on the table, angrily growling, "You will not do any such thing to Lily Evans. I won't stand for it."

James' eyebrows rose. "Delicate subject? What's wrong with me giving out detentions?"

"There's no possible reason for it," Slughorn said, sitting up straighter. "She's too well behaved. She's got a spotless record."

"Not anymore. Ooo, stakes are getting high," Blake said in a sing-song voice, eying the large pile of silver between James and Filch, the only two competing players that round.

They stared at each other for a moment before James asked, "Care to make things interesting?"

Flich creased his forehead. "What do you have in mind?"

"I'll raise you one detention with Mister Rockwell tomorrow night. Two hours," James said, smiling as the onlookers giggled, excited.

Flich smiled elatedly, mentally mapping Whispering Boy's torture. "Make it three."

"You can't raise my side of the bet."

"Fine, fine," Filch said, glancing back down to his cards. "I'll raise you one hour of plumbing services, whenever I need them."

James grinned smugly. "Shall we lay the cards down?"

Filch spread his cards into a fan over the tabletop, his face falling as James laid a royal flush in front of him. Although he was disappointed to lose the coins, Filch reveled in the thought of a two hour detention... how he loved detention giving...

"Well, I think I'll leave on a positive note," James said, interrupting Filch's distant pondering while shoveling the silver into his carrier. "What time is it, anyhow?"

Kettleburn looked to his watch. "God, it's already three o'clock. It'll be daylight soon," he said, standing with James. "Think I'll head off, too."

They waved their goodbyes, and stepped into the cold hallway together, traveling by the moonlight streaming through the corridor's long windows. Kettleburn turned to James with something clearly on his mind.

"I'm guessing you didn't coincidentally decide to leave the same time as me," James said, noticing Kettleburn's fidgeting.

"I've been thinking," Kettleburn said, stopping in a rarely traveled hallway. "About what happened yesterday."

James shrugged in the darkness. "The fish?"

"No. Well, yes, but no. Just about her... in general, you know?"

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, James figured they had stopped in a shadowed place to conceal Kettleburn's face as he asked a rather intimate question. "Where are you going with this?"

James heard a loud sigh and clumsy pacing. "She said she wants to have kids."

"With you?"

"That's the thing. I don't know," Kettleburn spoke hurriedly. "I think that's what she was inferring."

"Inferring?" James repeated. "What did she say?"

He treaded a circle into the rug, his shoe sole sliding a tad on the loose fringe. "After you left, I followed her into the bathroom where she was crying—said I was sorry if she was upset. She didn't like that, and she told me it was my fault, not hers, and to stop twisting my words to make her feel bad. I apologized again for God knows what, and I told her it was really just some goldfish. She said that she knew and that I was right—said she wouldn't want _her kids_ to be this upset if she had died over a year ago."

James squinted into the darkness and threw his hands upward in frustration. "And you got 'please father my children' out of that? You're the mental one. Talk about paranoia."

Kettleburn stormed toward the staircases, James in tow. "Forget it. You don't understand."

"That's right, I don't. Blake's getting to your head. I don't think she even likes you period, let alone _likes you_ likes you."

"She does! He's right. You just don't understand," Kettleburn sulked, pausing on the staircase as it lurched, beginning to change.

James caught up to him, and asked, "How can you tell?"

Kettleburn shrugged and started walking on the new landing the staircase had chosen. "She does certain things... for one, she watches me."

"Well, she's supposed to. You're her teacher, and she's supposed to watch you teach. That's kind of the whole concept."

Shaking his head, Kettleburn unlocked his classroom door, turning sharply and saying, "No, she _watches_ me. She watches me grade papers, and erase the board, and drink my coffee at breakfast, and read the newspaper, and organize my quills, and... Forget it. You don't know because you're new. You've never had one of them stare at you like that—you'd know if it happened."

James caught the door as Kettleburn tried to slam it. "Plenty of people stare at me."

"They _stare_; they don't _watch_," Kettleburn said, wrenching the door out of his grasp. "Let me know when they do, and then we'll talk."

The door closed in James' face, and he backtracked to the staircases. People watched him all the time; it was Kettleburn who 'didn't know'. James walked agitatedly to his rooms, remembering to carefully look for everyone watching him the next day, so as to prove his point.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The Saturday Lesson came rather rapidly, as James pulled himself out of bed around one o'clock that afternoon. He laid in his four-poster bed, counting ceiling beams, and thought back to the roof of the Gryffindor tower. It had been made of tin and shook fiercely as the rain fell above them. Sirius and he had always claimed they could count the raindrops during light sprinkles and had many childish contests to prove their superior hearing capabilities.

James swung his feet lazily over the bedside, standing and dressing in preparation for their lesson. Looking into the floor length mirror he had propped against the wall, he decided to overlook the tie and leave the first few buttons undone. He grabbed an apple from the plate atop the kitchen table as he sauntered past in a type of skip, inexplicably happy that morning. Keeping up his dance down the stairs, he took them two at a time while nonchalantly spinning, finishing with a full pirouette at the bottom.

He heard giggles and looked up to see Lily Evans and Mirina McDowell waiting near the door. They always seemed to enter at the most inconvenient moment for him.

"Good afternoon, ladies. How are you this fine day?" he asked, trying to cover his reddening ears.

"We're very good," Mirina said, flipping her hair, which was clearly her selling point. James had to give her credit for attempting cleavage by undoing her top buttons, but her bust really was too small. "How are you?"

"Splend-iferous" James responded, trying to spice up their conversation. "Come in, come in."

The two girls walked to the middle of the room where he was standing, Mirina swinging her hips widely. "Did you sleep well?" she asked, staring saucer-eyed at him.

James arched his eyebrow. "Err, yeah... I guess so. Did you?"

"Very," she said, her voice much deeper.

"And you, Miss Evans," James asked, coolly spinning a chair around and sitting in it backward. "How did you sleep?"

"Not so well," she said, grinning back. She had pulled her hair back that day into a loose bun, complete with a few tendrils falling from the mass. This view allowed James to fully appreciate her high cheekbones and sculpted eyes, which sparkled to him as she spoke. "I woke up with a knot in my shoulder." She illustrated by reaching behind her back and rubbing her shoulder blade, elegantly arcing her back.

James was enticed. "Really? Well, we'll have to fix that before you can start, won't we? Can't have you waving a wand around; it might further your injury."

Mirina turned green as James pulled a chair in front of his and patted the back of the seat. Lily softly sat in the chair, facing away from her professor, as he roughly began kneading her shoulder.

"So how do you like my class?" James asked colloquially. "Dreadfully boring or fantastically inspired?"

"Depends which day," Mirina said tartly.

"We have a critic," James commented. "What was your favorite part?"

Mirina smiled fiendishly. "Lily enjoyed when you stumbled out of the lake, dripping wet, shirt clinging."

"Mirina!" Lily protested, turning to James behind her. "That's not true."

"Sure it isn't," James said, leaning forward to whisper alluringly into her ear.

She covered her face with her hands as James laughed. She was so adorable, and Sirius was sure to like her, which was a very important factor for James.

"Well, I enjoyed it," Mirina said, regaining her deep voice and purposely gaping her shirt again. "Do you work out a lot?"

James raised his eyebrows. She certainly was blunt. "When I can. I used to have to because I was in Auror training, but now I just like to stay fit. It gives me something to do."

"Why didn't you become an Auror?" Lily asked shyly.

James sighed, hoping he could double back and avoid that question. "I couldn't have a regular service outfit to fight with. Apparently I was a target and a high-level risk to my unit. They were going to send me on special missions with the more experienced fighters, but that's not what I wanted to do. I guess the reality of the war hit me all at once, and after Sirius—Sirius Black, my friend—came home injured one night, I didn't want any part of the whole thing."

"What'd you do then?" Mirina prodded, looking at him skeptically.

Sighing, James shrugged. "I took a job at the ministry and sabotaged Sirius's job, so he got fired and had to work in the office with me. He wasn't too pleased once he figured it out, and he had me fired for falsifying official reports. Took him forever to speak to me again."

"That wasn't in the papers," Mirina said.

"True," James acknowledged, looking at Lily's hair. "I use some discretion. It's kind of personal. Not my shining hour, you know?"

Mirina nodded and looked through the windows, not knowing what to say.

"Well, how's your shoulder, Miss Evans? Better?"

Lily nodded as he patted her on the back. She stood next to Mirina, and he flicked his wand to clear the desks.

"Alright, so I thought we'd start with stunning. I know it's kind of basic in the big scheme of things, but if you can't throw a good stunning curse, you're in trouble."

They paid attention as he demonstrated wand motions and listed their accompanying hexes. Soon, they were sending them toward small bricks James had lined on the far desks, so as to emphasize precise aim. After the hours passed, Mirina waved goodbye to them as Lily sat at a desk, readying herself for her first detention.

James refiled the classroom's desk rows and sat in chair at the desk preceding hers, angling it toward her and resting his arm in the vacant space beside her. He thought of apologizing, but firmly decided against it. It wouldn't do him any good even if he did; it's not as though he could just announce she'd been punk'd and send her away.

They sat in an uncomfortable silence waiting for her partner in crime to join them. He focused his eyes on the grains running through the thick desk surface, fixed in a permanent wave formation. His fingers ran the length of them, tracing their flowing pattern, as he glanced to Lily, whom he noticed was watching his hand. _Watching_. Remembering Kettleburn's words, he suddenly felt pressured and unsure of what to do while she stared intently at his fingertips moving smoothly in the shallow grooves on the desktop. He nervously gazed at her as her green eyes followed his hand. Could she see him watching her out of the corner of her eye? Was he making her uncomfortable, scaring her? Was she as tense as he was? Why was his hand so interesting, and why wasn't she looking away? James knew she could see him staring at her.

The door flung ajar and in stepped the awaited party, wearing a white undershirt that read '_Detention or Bust!_' in large, sloppy handwriting. He plopped himself on the desk next Lily, and smiled casually, provoking James, who stood to signify his authority.

"Hello Professor," Nathaniel said confidently. "I would say, 'How nice to see you', but as it happens, it's really not nice to see you, so I will say, 'How awful to see you'."

James repressed an eye roll at the boy's feeble attempt to sound cool, but he noticed Lily bite back a smile. He sneered viciously to Nathaniel and inquired, "What are you wearing, Mister Rockwell?"

Nathaniel looked down and took on a surprised face, pretending to just remember his wardrobe choice. "Oh, it's my new shirt—made it myself."

James stared at him, baffled at how Lily could be impressed by this. "Why?"

"Well," he started, looking to Lily to ensure her interest with him. "I had one that said '_Gryffindor or Bust!_' that I was going to wear to the quidditch game tonight, but seeing as how I'm not going, I figured that shirt would be inappropriate now."

"So you've fashioned yourself a new one?" James asked bitterly.

"I think it better suits the occasion."

Lily's slight giggle enraged James, and he lost his remaining patience with the boy. "You'll serve three hours detention with Mister Filch tonight." He flicked his hand sharply toward the door in a superior gesture. "Run along, you're already late."

Nathaniel playfully tapped the desk next to Lily as he walked past her and said, "Good luck, babe." He saluted James just before exiting, during which, to James' delight, he tripped over the base of the door frame and stumbled to the floor, out of sight. Sticking a hand back into the room, he gave a 'thumbs up' gesture. "I'm good."

Lily hid a smile as Nathaniel retreated, and looked to James for an assignment.

'_Babe? What does that mean?_' he thought, grabbing his name plate off his desktop and twirling it. "Well, Miss Evans, now that's taken care of, I suppose you'll have to start your detention," he said, feeling a wave of regret.

She nodded and looked down, understandably embarrassed.

James sighed at her sad expression. "You'll have to relabel the shelves in the defense storage room. It shouldn't take you that long. Okay?"

"Yes, sir," she said, standing solemnly and walking into a large closet at the rear of the room.

At first, James thought he should sit with her, but he figured he would seem overeager. He decided to check on her in thirty minutes, chatting then. For now, he would sit at his desk and not watch her, but read instead. He grabbed a copy of _Combative Curses _and flipped the cover open.

However, it was a widely known fact that James Potter had an attention deficit, and he quickly became bored with his reading, the words lulling him into a deep slumber.

- - - - - - - - _Five Hours Later_ - - - - - - - -

"POTTER!" Slughorn bellowed, standing over James and slapping him with _Combative Curses._

James jerked perpendicular to his chair and grimaced at the forming welt on his arm where Slughorn had assaulted him. "What the hell are you doing?" he shouted, standing to tower over his short, round co-worker.

Slughorn threw the book atop the desk and continued yelling, "Where is Miss Evans? She never misses my after-game parties, especially when Gryffindor wins! You know, you can't detain them for more than four hours. What have you done with her?!"

Staring back vacantly, realization suddenly passed over James' face: she was still there. She had never left. James ran quickly into the storeroom and found her asleep on the ground, slightly propped against a corner of shelving. He did not have the time to take in her beauty under the dim torch light, as Slughorn was bumbling along behind him, and he knelt beside her. The clipboard she had been using was still gripped slackly in her petite fist, and James placed it on a near cabinet before gently shaking her arm.

"Miss Evans," he called softly. "Miss Evans."

Her eyes flickered open as she sat up worriedly. "Oh goodness, I'm sorry. I'll finish. I'm almost done," she slurred, half unconscious, while reaching for her clipboard.

"You will do no such thing," Slughorn said, pushing James into a wall of shelves and lifting Lily from the floor. "It is past curfew, and your detention has been completed. I will escort you to your dorm," he declared, throwing a scornful look to James.

"Oh," Lily commented lightly.

James obstructed their exit and pried her arm from Slughorn's corpulent fingers, not wanting Lily to leave with him. "I will escort her. She is still under my watch," he said defiantly as Slughorn fumed.

"Very well, Mister Potter. But I'll have you know, I will report you for this," he spat, the angry red glow of his face creeping down his neck. "I don't know what you're trying here, but I'm going to find out."

James curled his lips; he never had liked his ex-professor. "Unclench. I fell asleep," he snarled, guiding Lily sternly into the hallway and turning back to Slughorn. "Goodnight."

Slughorn scanned over him, sizing him up, before warmly smiling to Lily. "Goodnight, Miss Evans. I shall need no praise for rescuing the fair maiden from her imprisonment."

"Goodnight, Professor," Lily smiled tiredly, with a faint wave.

James spun Lily quickly away from Slughorn and started down the hall with her.

Rid of Slughorn's presence, James sighed in relief and slowed their walk as he watched her stretch her arms above her head.

"I'm tired. What time is it?"

"Half past ten," he said, noticing her blink at his answer. "I'm sorry about this. I fell asleep."

She nodded. "As did I. If I need to finish my detention, let me know."

James laughed lightly. "I'd say you've served enough time already."

She turned sharply around a corner, bumping into his arm. James' flesh burned from the contact as they walked through the dark hallways in silence.

Suddenly, Lily squinted her eyes and looked around the darkness. "Where are we?"

"Halfway to the Gryffindor tower."

"No, I sleep in the Head dormitory. I'm Head Girl," she proclaimed, stumbling into James around another corner. She tugged his sleeve and pointed limply down the staircases. "It's this way."

In her jaded swagger, she sashayed in a unladylike manner down the stairs in front of James, who looked on, amused. '_She's more entertaining like this_,' he thought, as she waited for him at the bottom.

"It's very late," she observed while they continuing walking. "I would make small talk, but I'm not terribly articulate at the moment." Tripping over an armor suit's foot, Lily added, "Apparently my grace has also taken a turn for the worse this evening."

James chuckled. "Apparently."

She abruptly halted beside of a door with a large brassy handle. "Well, this is me," she said, glancing between James and the doorknob. He did not take the hint, and she repeated the action.

"Oh, right." James heaved the door open for her to find the eyes of Mirina McDowell, Braden Ardsley, and Emmeline Vance staring at him. He smiled at the notion their sleepover, and backed down the hallway. "Goodnight, ladies."

Lily slipped inside and waved over her shoulder to him.

Starting down the hallway, James heard his name, stopped, and retraced his steps to the door.

- - - - - - - - _Inside the Room_ - - - - - - - -

Lily closed the door and smiled to everyone. "Hello all."

Mirina flopped herself onto the bed, stomach down, supporting herself on her elbows while kicking her feet girlishly. "So."

Taking her sweater off, Lily shrugged and reiterated, "So."

"_So_... what happened?" she asked as everyone giggled. "You were gone an awfully long time. We've been waiting since nine."

Lily rolled her eyes, knowing what was being implied. "I was relabeling the defense storeroom shelves, and I fell asleep—I stayed up way too late last night finishing my transfiguration paper. Apparently Professor Potter fell asleep too, and by the time he woke up and found me, it was after curfew. _So_," she repeated, raising her eyebrows, "he walked me to my rooms."

Braden, who was sprawled across the carpet, flipped over and moved her feet up to the front armoire door, where they rested as she made a gesture. "So you slept together, literally?

"Not even," Lily said, sitting in a chair laughing. "We weren't in the same room."

Mirina stared at her before casting her judgment, "You're lying. You did it with him."

Lily rolled her eyes yet again. "Oh yeah, that's me: seductress extraordinaire."

"Look, you're either a liar or an idiot. Who falls asleep when James Potter is overseeing their detention, and who doesn't jump James Potter when they're alone with him?" Mirina said, flinging her arms into a mock scale to weigh Lily's options.

"Stop saying his full name."

"I can't!" Mirina exclaimed. "It's just so perfectly lovely. James Potter... Mr. James Potter... Mr. And Mrs. James Potter... Mrs. Mirina Potter—"

"Ugh, come on," Lily groaned, crossing her legs tightly. "You can't be serious. He's a teacher, and six years older than you."

Mirina scoffed. "I know, that's the best part. He's so mature, so sophisticated, so worn-looking... so sexy. I bet he has loads of battle scars. Oh, if I could just trace my nail along the raised flesh on his stomach, and maybe the one I'm tracing ends a little south of his stomach, so I'd have to unbutton his trousers—"

"Stop! Stop it. I can't believe you would say something like that! How do you know he's not still standing right outside the door?" Lily pointed toward the door to depict her point.

Braden laughed on the floor. "Of course, because that's what James Potter does on a Saturday night: he eavesdrops on teenage girl's bedrooms."

They all giggled feverishly as a humiliated James blushed heatedly from just beyond the door. He began to walk away as he heard shouts of "Could you imagine?" and "How lame would that be?", when Mirina beckoned him.

"Oh, Professor Potter," she called to the closed door. "Please come in. I can't seem to get the fireplace started. Care to light my fire?"

The other girls cackled as Lily threw a random object from the nightstand at Mirina. "Don't! It was just a hypothetical thing."

Braden laughed giddily and stood up, thrusting her chest out with her hands behind her back. "This'll be fun. I'll be Professor Potter." She gestured to the armoire (or 'chalkboard') and thrust a quill to it. "As you can see from what I've written on the board," she spoke in a deep voice, underlining an invisible phrase on the wood, "Today's topic is defense against magical creatures. Now, who can—"

Emmeline, who had been sitting at Lily's writing desk, threw a random book to the floor and gasped. "Opps! Professor, I seemed to have dropped my book."

Braden smiled. "Well, just let me pick that up for you," she said, turning around and bending over so that her pajama pants stretched tightly over her bottom as she retrieved the fallen textbook.

Mirina hooted and hollered, while Lily giggled.

"We shouldn't do this you guys—" Lily said, only to be cut off by Braden.

"DETENTION, Miss Evans! There is no talking in this class," she shouted over the laughter.

"Ooo," Mirina sounded, looking to her friend with wide eyes. "Lily you're such a troublemaker. Two detentions in a row! Tsk, tsk."

- - - - - - - - _Outside the Room_ - - - - - - - -

James turned down the hallway as he heard a pillow fight erupt within the room. How pathetic was he? In disbelief with his own actions, he looked up from the ground and saw Kettleburn leaning in a shadow-covered alcove, snickering at him.

"This is what I'm talking about," he said quietly to James, smiling. "You _watch_ her."

James looked to the dust-smeared floor and kicked his foot into the air defensively, watching the debris stir into a rising twister. "Do not."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Author's Note: Thanks for the awesome reviews. I'm trying show Lily's thoughts (the whole eavesdropping thing), but I'm writing this from James' perspective, so I can only go so far with Lily's PoV. Personally, I prefer some ambiguity and the Henry James approach.

Thank you for your kind sentiments toward my dog. Surgery went fine, and she's doing much better. In answer to the question, no, I don't have an editor. I edit it myself while watching _Rachel Ray_ in the afternoon. Daytime television _es el __mejor_.

I'll probably update every five to seven days because I have classes starting next week, and it takes me a while to write (obviously). I'm thinking of giving James an extracurricular activity to run. What do y'all want him to do? Chess? Debate? Coach? Referee? Start a Cooking Club? Please review and let me know!!


	8. Chapter 7: Interference

**Pretty Mouth and Green Her Eyes**

By: Nicole Jeanine

Disclaimer: The original characters and storyline are mine. I do not believe I am JK Rowling, or that I own _Harry Potter_ in any way, shape, or form. I also do not believe I am JD Salinger and would like to thank him for the use of his title (I switched one word, though).

Summary: Five years after graduating, James Potter returns to Hogwarts as the defense professor. The residing Head Girl, Lily Evans, catches his attention and becomes irresistible yet seemingly unattainable.

**Chapter Seven: The Winter Palace Loses Its Luster**

"I have to do what?"

It was James Potter who spoke these words as he sat across from Albus Dumbledore in the Headmaster's private office. Summoned there by post during that morning's breakfast, James had hurried through his meal to ensure a speedy arrival, and then began running toward the office expecting an emergency. Unfortunately, the task Dumbledore had posed to James was hardly a matter of grave importance: James was lacking in his extracurricular involvement.

Dumbledore leaned further into his armchair with a sigh, smiling slightly at James' reaction. "It's encouraged that all of our staff members form private societies or just regular clubs that give students a chance to further their knowledge beyond the classroom. You can restart a retired club, co-chair an existing one, or create an entirely new one. There are also volunteer based positions, if you wanted to organize the school dances or referee Quidditch matches... Whatever you'd feel comfortable doing." He looked through his half-moon glasses, eyes twinkling, as James pulled a rather comical facial expression.

"So I could do anything? I could start a geology club if I wanted?"

"Well," Dumbledore said with a chuckle, seeing James' plan, "ten students have to join to _actually_ create a club. But if there some sort of geology phenomenon rampaging through the student body at the moment, you would know better than I would. If that's what you wish, I could make a sign-up sheet..." he said, his voice trailing into silence as he reached for a piece of parchment and quill.

"No, no," James said, snatching the quill hastily from Dumbledore's reach as the elder wizard looked up in shock at James' rudeness. "It was a hypothetical thing." He twirled the quill through his fingers as he thought of what to do: chess club?—no, he was far from the premier chess player; Quidditch club?—no, there were already Quidditch teams, so he would just get the house try-out rejects; geology club might actually work—but he would have to know about rocks; cartographer club?—too subtle to attract enough interest; dueling club?—too much of a liability... what else was there to do?

Dumbledore interrupted his thoughts. "You don't have to decide right this instant. You can let me know by—"

"I've decided. I'll referee a couple of the Quidditch games."

"Alright, then," Dumbledore smiled. "Your first will be Saturday afternoon's game. Just be there half an hour before the toss up."

James stood, trying to close the conversation. "Will do. I hate to run out like this, but I have to make some copies before class, so..."

The headmaster waved his hands toward the door in dismissal. "By all means, go. Make copies, find happiness."

Smiling fondly, James sighed at Dumbledore's ways; he always reminded James of those muggle fortune cookies. "Have a good day, sir."

"I always do."

Once out of the Headmaster's study and into the hallway, James hustled to his classroom where he hurriedly copied and attached the review packets he had written the night before. Finishing with the last one just as the late bell sounded, he closed the door with a flick of his wand and sent the packets magically onto the desks in a rather enjoyable linear pattern. The seventh year Gryffindor and Slytherin mix had cycled around once again, to James' delight, and he impatiently began speaking over the chatting of the students.

"Hello, class. How is everyone today?" he asked while sitting atop his desk, where he had found to be his most comfortable location to teach.

The class eventually silenced, and Nathaniel loudly answered the question in a falsly enthusiastic inflection rhythm. "We're spectacular. And yourself, sir?"

Snickering, the other students were spurred on by the open display of insubordination and began calling out "spectacular" from the various corners of the room.

James, bored with the mob mentality, smiled and looked specifically toward Nathaniel. "I'm glad to hear it, Mr. Rockwell. I hope you also find Monday as 'spectacular', as that is now the date of your first examination."

As expected the class quickly turned on Nathaniel and commenced a mass protest, only interrupted by scowls at Whispering Boy. James had decided to carry on his naming process for his own amusement and had bestowed a nickname upon almost every student in his classes.

Shoelace Girl, who had taken it upon herself to copy poetry onto the starkly white shoelaces of her uniform shoes, all the while maintaining that the dress code failed to mention that clothing article, raised her hand in alarm. "Professor, can't it be the lesson after that? We should have a review day."

"Ah, but that is what today is. The review packets are on your desks. You may complete them alone, in groups, or just ignore them completely. I, of course, recommend trying it on your own, but if you are not so inclined, do as much as you care to. There's no assignment today, and you can ask me about anything you're struggling with—if not today, then find me sometime before next lesson."

This answer did not completely appease Shoelace Girl, who elevated her hand again. "If we complete the review packet, do we get bonus points on the test?"

James scoffed. "No. If you need the review, then do it, and if you still need help, we'll talk about private tutoring. If you understand the material, then I'm not going to have a punishment for not doing unnecessary work. Useless labor is actually one of the circles of Hell, according to Dante, but I'll spare you all the classic poetry recitation."

Long Eyelash Girl, who would uncontrollably bat her eyes at James each time he passed, shot her hand up. "Could you—(bats eyelids)—tutor me privately?"

James wanted to retake his previous statement as the female hands in the class began to rise at an exponential pace. "Erm, let's see how much we can fix today before we jump into tutoring, alright? Okay, enough questions. Just work, please—or don't, just... stop," he concluded lamely while climbing off his desk and circling to his chair.

The female students could not find difficult concepts fast enough and formed an ever-growing circle around his desk, of which the bolder girls had sat atop, dangling their legs off the desk at James' eye level. Uncharacteristically cursing the day the school had switched to knee-length skirts from the previous floor length ones, James averted his eyes from the flesh to the back corner of the room, where Nathaniel had reconstructed the Czar's Winter Palace using a deck of cards.

Mirina sat across from him applauding at the addition of each wing, but Lily had contentedly settled herself in a separate row with a book, which was James' new favorite book, as it distracted her from Whispering Boy's flirting tactics. James watched as Nathaniel repeatedly called her name in an effort to attract her attention toward the castle, inwardly smiling each time she briefly commented, "How nice," before returning to her text.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

At nine o'clock that night, James sat alone filling out a waver Dumbledore had given him earlier, in which James promised to "take personal responsibility" for "any negligence" during the Quidditch match that would "result in bodily harm". 'How cheery,' James thought as he reflected on the paradox of filling out a form by filling it in.

A knock on the door caught his attention, and he rose, calling, "Come in."

The door hesitantly opened as Lily's slim figure squeezed between the slight partition she had made. "Hello, Professor. I'm sorry to disturb you, but I left my book in here earlier. Do you mind if I look for it?"

James walked toward her and raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I do mind. I'm sorry, but I cannot allow that."

She stared back, confused, before smiling, figuring it was a joke, but when he did not reciprocate her friendly gesture, she retook the puzzled expression.

His mouth broke into a sudden grin as he laughed. "I'm kidding. Come on, I'll help you look. We can use my radar." Holding an arm vertically, he began to produce a beeping sound whist his hand spun in a small, high circle.

Lily giggled as he beeped with more enthuse as they slowly neared her desk in the far corner.

James' beeps manifested into a continuous high-pitched sound as he bent to the floor, retrieving her textbook _World of Waves_. "Here you are," he initially offered, before noticing the title and extending it backward, beyond the potential magnitude her encroaching reach. "Wait, what is this?"

She shrugged while watching him sit atop a nearby desk and flip through the pages, furrowing his brow at the sine graphs on the pages. "It's a book."

"So what is this about? Some muggle scientific stuff?"

Lily leaned nervously against the opposite desk and dropped her gaze to the textbook in question. "Kind of. It's about colors... like, what are they, what makes them visible," she explained, watching his reaction of the quick content scan. "That's actually why I like to read muggle research—they explain more than we can."

James gave her a sassy look. "Doubtful. I'm sure we could explain colors if we wanted to, but we learn better things. For example, why do unicorns have one horn? Or better yet, why is it called a unicorn if it has a 'uni-_horn_'? What's with the 'c'? Ask any muggle that, and they'll commit you."

"Ask any wizard that, and they'll commit you," she quipped.

He chuckled in response.

Smiling at his ethnocentric views, Lily furthered her plea for muggle science. "I mean, they know what shape the universe is, and what makes color, and why the planets rotate around the sun. We can't explain that without their research."

"I think science can only go so far," he argued, pulling a face. "I mean, okay, so what is color? Can you really tell me what it is, or is it just a list of characteristics?"

"It's electromagnetic radiation at different wavelengths, so it's kind of a byproduct of magnetism that has some sort of interference to make the different wavelengths."

"But what causes the interference?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. No one knows."

Smiling triumphantly, James leaned backward and laced his fingers behind his head to form a headrest. "See, there's no origin—no answer."

"I guess," she responded, beginning to stand fully, but halting halfway through the action. With a glance toward him, she parted her mouth to continue the conversation but closed it quickly in hesitation, repeating this action until decidedly speaking. "I kind of think that it's our universe. Like, whatever is inside of our universe has interference upon it, so we can see it, but anything that's outside doesn't have that interference, so we can't see it—the interference is what defines what's inside and outside of the universe. It would explain a lot. I think that's why we don't know what's out there."

"In outer space?" James asked, staring at her with raptured interest.

She shook her head. "No, past that—way out there. We can't see pure colors, because to see them, they can't be pure. I'd like to think that somewhere, there are pure colors. It'd be strange to not have a pure, ideal form of something, but to have a bunch of impure things that all get really close to that one ideal. It's like, it has to exist."

"You don't think we can see purity?"

Lily shrugged and thought for a moment to choose her answer with care. "No, I guess not."

James nodded and readjusted himself in his chair, placing a heel on his knee in a manly leg-cross. "You think a lot?"

"Yeah," she answered irresolutely before looking directly into his eyes, searching for something. "Do you think a lot?"

"Eh, sometimes. Not all the time, but I have my days." Together, they sat in a silent locked gaze, broken by James as he commented, "Well, I think I like what I can see. If seeing purity meant not seeing what I can now, I don't think I'm interested."

She looked at him incredulously, tossing her hair, which reflected the moonlit glow in its motion. Framed by the tall window the pair sat before, their dimlit setting intensified the incoming light's blue haze, under which they saw each other in, not only a literal, but also a figurative new light. "You don't want purity? truth?"

James sighed. "It's not that I don't want it, but... I don't know. It seems like I'd be giving up a lot."

"You wouldn't be giving up anything, you'd just become... clean. Like right now, you're looking through blurred vision. I would want more clarity to see what things really look like without constraints—without interference."

"Maybe I prefer the interference. Just because something isn't pure, it can still be worth seeing," he answered.

She nodded, redirecting her eyes toward the window's view.

Staring at her, he realized this was the time. This was his chance--possibly his only one. Speaking in a small, gentle voice, he spoke softly. "I like your interference."

In a rather adorable motion, Lily scrunched eyebrows and thought on his words before looking toward him again. "What?"

"I like your interference."

She tensed. "Thank you."

With a look toward the wall mounted clock, James helped soothe her unease by providing an exit. "Well, it's almost curfew. You should probably be getting back to your dorm."

"Right," she acknowledged, standing quickly and picking her book off the tabletop. "Well, thank you for finding this for me."

"It was the most I could do," her professor responded, reclining lazily in his chair.

She smiled. "I guess I'll see you on Saturday at the Qudditch match."

"That, you will. Have a good night."

Looking over her shoulder as she walked toward the door, she called, "You, too."

After her departure, James heard a Lily-like giggle from the hallway as her shoe soles pattered against the stone-paved floor, reverberating off the similarly textured corridor walls. He smiled in the same euphoric state she was seemingly under and mused on her laugh, concentrating on the total process of the sound—from her throat, into her mouth, onto her lips. Shaking his head, he decided he needed an interest past committing a felony. Maybe he should rethink skirting the extracurricular assignment and develop a hobby to ward off such lecherous thoughts... or he could blissfully let his pure lust rage without interference. Decidedly, he leaned back in his chair as sinful purity overtook his senses.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Author's Note: No, I have not abandoned this story. I could give you this long list of excuses, or I could just apologize sincerely, so here goes: I'm terribly sorry about the hiatus. It won't be like that again.

I hope you all enjoyed the "What is color?" discussion... I find it fascinating. I tried to give James an interesting way to tell her she's pretty... what do you think? Interesting or ordinary?

Get ready for the Quidditch game! Please review!! Love to all, Nicole.


	9. Chapter 8: War Tips from The Godfather

**Pretty Mouth and Green Her Eyes**

By: Nicole Jeanine

Disclaimer: The original characters and storyline are mine. I do not believe I am JK Rowling, or that I own _Harry Potter_ in any way, shape, or form. I also do not believe I am JD Salinger and would like to thank him for the use of his title (I switched one word, though). For this chapter, I additionally would like to clarify that I do not own _The Godfather_.

Summary: Five years after graduating, James Potter returns to Hogwarts as the defense professor. The residing Head Girl, Lily Evans, catches his attention and becomes irresistible yet seemingly unattainable.

**Chapter Eight: Leave the Gun, Take the Cannoli**

Late Saturday afternoon, James Potter and Luke Kettleburn strolled down the brick pathway leading to the Quidditch Pitch, readying themselves for the year's first night game. Autumn's dry air whipped around the pair as they trekked the narrow, unevenly paved path that seemingly led straight into the setting sun.

"They all failed," Kettleburn harped, unable to forget his Advanced Arithmetic's miserable performance earlier that week. "Everyone of them. The class average was a 43. Not even a 45."

"It's not your fault."

Pausing with a slight sigh, Kettleburn slowed their walking pace. "Can I confide in you?"

"Sure," James responded, shrugging indifferently.

"I don't think I'm coming back next year. I'm bored, and there's nothing here for me anymore. I don't care about the students as much as I used to—well that's obvious. They all failed their test. I should have taught them better."

James shook his head, slightly shocked by the announcement. "I'm sure your teaching is fine—"

"No, it's not. I'm resigning if they don't fire me first for my utter lack of teaching capacity."

"You're being rash."

Kettleburn ignored him and focused his eyes on the weed-like flowers framing their path. "I kind of want to go out with a bang—make some sort of impact. Hopefully it will be for something better than smuggling firewhiskey into the Quidditch games, though. That's amateur." Reaching into his coat's inside breast pocket, he pulled out a rusted silver flask and unscrewed the cap to drink from it.

With bulging eyes, James started spluttering before regaining enough syllabicity to articulate: "You're insane! What'll happen if someone sees?!"

Kettleburn gave a single, defiant laugh. "Nothing, probably. You saw, and look at the effort you've made to report me."

James straightened his collar to add to his authority. "Well, someone, like myself, who has witnessed your illegal activities, could be waiting for a more discreet moment to casually hint to Dumbledore to check your coat pockets."

"If such a situation arose, I might just have to bribe them with this other flask," Kettleburn said, withdrawing a matching flask from his outerwear.

Clearing his throat, James glanced left and right to ensure the absence of witnesses and then quickly snatched the bribe. "Well, I'll have to confiscate that one to ensure no bargaining will interfere with proper law enforcement."

Kettleburn smirked. "How noble of you."

Without enough warning for Kettleburn to duck behind nearby foliage, Allegra Giotonee came sprinting wildly across the lawn with Lily Evans jogging not far behind her. Falling into stride with the two older men, Allegra's smile beamed at them. "Hello, Professors."

James returned her smile as Kettleburn contemplated making a run for it. "Hello. How are you ladies today?"

"We're excellent," Allegra replied eagerly, her eyes not leaving Kettleburn.

Lily grinned briefly to James in a greeting gesture, causing his heart to leap into his throat.

Attempting to elicit conversation from the object of her affection, Allegra specifically addressed Kettleburn. "Have you graded the exams yet?"

He did not look from the ground and replied with a monotonous, "You don't want to know."

"Oh." Dropping her gaze to the bricks they passed over, she searched for a new topic to pursue and commented, "The flowers are starting to wilt. I guess winter's coming quickly this year."

Kettleburn remained silent.

James glanced toward Lily, who had apparently been staring at him, as she visibly jerked her head from his direction when their eyes met. "Yes," he agreed, feeling slight pity for Allegra's failure in her romantic conquest. "I saw some frost on my window this morning. I had to drink a cup of coffee just to warm up."

Glaring daggers at James, Kettleburn made it apparent that he did not appreciate James encouraging his stalker.

"I love coffee. You know, there's an excellent tea and coffee shop in Hogsmeade. You simply must have their caramel foamed latte."

Finally heeding Allegra's request for his attention, Kettleburn commented, "I only like black coffee. Anything you put in it just detracts from the caffeine."

She scrunched her nose in disgust. "That'll rot your teeth, though—just pure black coffee."

"And caramel's going to actually whiten the enamel."

"Well, no—"

"If you're going to ruin your teeth," Kettleburn interrupted, "you should do it the right way."

"And your way is the right way?" Allegra scoffed.

"Yes," he responded quickly in a matter-of-fact tone. "I'm your teacher. By definition, I know more than you."

"Too bad this isn't a differential equation. You know less about teeth than I know about Eight Tracks."

"I've had my teeth for a good ten years longer than you've had yours. Ergo, I have the superior knowledge base."

James sensed he and Lily were officially excluded from the discussion. There was some natural force between their two bickering companions that drew them together and locked them in a constant battle, of which neither put up a real effort to avoid.

She rolled her eyes. "Length of ownership has nothing to do with knowledge. I have two feet, but I can't count them any better now than I could have fifteen years ago."

"Perhaps that would explain your mathematical incompetence: You're counting like a three year old."

James fell slightly behind the line and gently took hold of Lily's shoulder to steer her onto a different path, perpendicular to the one Allegra and Kettleburn continued to travel.

"What are—oh," she said, ending her initial protest. "Wait, shouldn't we tell them they missed the turn?"

As the Quidditch Pitch appeared from behind a small treeline, James shrugged. "We could if we wanted to listen to them argue more."

Lily smiled and continued walking.

"Do they always do that?" James asked.

"Yeah. It's kind of entertaining," she replied, the apples of her cheeks obtaining a slight red hue from the wind rushing against them.

James repositioned himself to protect her from the larger gusts while subconsciously running a hand through his messed hair. "I suppose."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Once at the Pitch, James headed for the team entrance and walked the familiar hallway past the equipment and locker rooms, memories of his glory days as the Gryffindor Captain returning with each step. He approached the large wooden doors at the edge to the field and released the latch to allow the sunlight into the dimly lit arena beneath the bleachers. New cheers from the crowd came in response to James' action, and the players customarily filtered into the small area, preparing to mount their brooms. Not surprisingly, protective-padding-clad Nathaniel led the pack to where James stood.

"Why hello, Professor," he greeted with a sarcastic air while making a final adjustment to his right elbow pad strap.

"Mr. Rockwell," James acknowledged.

Nathaniel stared at him. "Well?"

"Well what?"

He smirked arrogantly and spun the broomstick in his hand. "Wish me luck. I am on the Gryffindor team, after all."

"Yes, have a good game," James replied dryly.

"Thank you for your empty well-wishing, sir. Good luck to you, too."

James looked the boy up and down. "Why do I need luck?"

"Oh, you know," he shrugged. "Every once in a while a mis-thrown quaffle heads toward the referee. Not to worry, though. It's not like I'll be aiming at you or anything."

As Nathaniel left the ground, James resisted the urge to kick the end of Nathaniel's broomstick, which would launch his enemy off the broom and into a complete face-plant on the green below. But he was an adult. James just had to keep reminding himself of that.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Overall, the match passed relatively smoothely (A/N: yes, there's an e). A few 'mis-aimed' shots from Nathaniel headed in James' direction, and the Ravenclaw Chasers were fast to intercept, eventually leading to Nathaniel's benching. Without the star player, the Gryffindor team lost its early lead, but luckily, the strong defense line won Gryffindor the game. After filling out ten 'Incident Reports' in the Pitch's administration office for all the fallen players, James hastily filed the forms and left the cramped room only to find himself in complete darkness.

With a quick _Lumos_ charm, James lit his way to the Quidditch hallway, turning toward the field instead of the exit. '_No one's around_,' James thought while extinguishing the artificial light in favor of the moon's glow. '_I'll just take a few jogs around the Pitch for old time's sake_.' Upon reaching the Pitch, however, James noticed he was not alone: a small, lone figure laid tranquilly in the stands, radiating a sense of calm while looking upward to the stars and swinging a dangled foot in steady rhythm. Silently climbing the bleacher's steps, James neared the mysterious person until recognizing her.

"Miss Evans?"

Without rising, she stopped swinging her foot and looked innocently to him with her large green eyes. "Yes, Professor?"

"May I ask why you've chosen to rebel and not abide to curfew?"

She swung her feet over the bench to face him and sat up lazily. "I'm not feeling well. I think I've caught a cold."

James gave her a ridiculous look. "Probably. It's almost subzero out here. Where's global warming when you need it, eh?"

She smiled lightly and tugged her coat to tightlier constrict her body, shivering slightly. "I went inside, and all of the parties were so loud. I just wanted quiet."

"You know, some faculty members might punish students who wander the grounds after curfew," James said while taking a seat on the bench below hers and reclining backward to lean against her upper seating level.

"You know, some Head Girls might report professors who carry illegal articles in their coat pockets."

James placed a hand atop his breast pocket where Kettleburn's now empty flask rested. "Touché. You saw that earlier?"

She smirked. "Never join the Mafia. You're terribly indiscreet."

With his best Marlon Brando impersonation, James brought a hand to his face, contemplatively feeling the stubble along his chin, while straining his voice into a grainy tone. "What have I ever done... to make you treat me... so disrespectfully?"

Lily began to giggle, only triggering a deep, echoing cough.

James looked to her in concern and moved further down the bench, closer to her, extending a hand to feel her lymph nodes.

His approaching hand appeared to surprise her, and she leaned away, looking curiously at his open palm.

"No, it's okay. I'm diagnosing you," he reassured as his hand firmly, yet gently, grasped her throat. Their first deliberate physical contact distracted James, who took a minute to overcome the friction made from his course fingers against the soft delicateness of her skin, before remembering his initial purpose. Her lymph nodes were, in fact, inflamed. "Does your throat hurt?"

"A bit," she said, coughing again.

Chivalrously, he removed his own scarf and wrapped it snuggly around her bare neck. "If you want to go to the Kitchens with me, I could make you some tea."

Her nose crinkled. "I'm not really a tea drinker. There's that one shop in Hogsmeade—that Allegra was talking about earlier, remember?—they have the best tea. Other than that, the outcome isn't worth the effort."

James stood with a sigh and turned to face her, his hands placed in his pockets. "Well, then there's only one thing we can do."

"Go to the mattresses?" she guessed, drawing on their early conversation.

"As appealing as that sounds," James started, adolescently winking at her, "I was going to suggest a staff-supervised excursion to Hogsmeade."

Lily blushed heatedly. "We could get in troub—" she spoke before another cough interrupted her.

"I'll take that as a 'Yes, let's go'. Come on," he called to her from below, already beginning the descent from their seats to the field below.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

With a faint bell chime, James opened the coffee shop door for his female counterpart with a low bow. "After you, my lady."

"Why thank you, kind sir," Lily said, curtsying and stepping into the small store. Coffee bean containers covered the walls, hiding the peeling marigold wallpaper, while candles lit the room from an elk antler chandelier hung above the ordering counter, behind which stood a tanned, tired, thirty-something man. Coffee Man, however, appeared to animate upon noticing the Second to the Minister of Magic's son entering his humble establishment with an obvious student just as the wall-hung clock tolled eleven—most definately after curfew and most definately illegal.

"Anything for a beautiful girl," he sighed while extending her his elbow to escort to the counter. "Not to worry, though; I'll make an exception in your case."

Her arm dropped, as did her jaw. "Woah."

From behind the long counter, Coffee Man cleared his throat and looked to them anixously. "May I help you?"

"One green tea for the lady, one tall latte for myself. And if it isn't too much trouble," James said while slyly sliding a golden galleon across the counter, "we were never here."

Coffee Man flipped two wall-mounted switches beside him, resulting in a mechanical sounding roar as the contraption along the wall commenced its assembly line process, and with a brief glance to his new customers, he placed the coin into his pocket. Soon after, their drinks floated onto the counter as plastic lids sealed themselves to the cups' rims. "Here you are, Mr. and Mrs. Smith. That'd be two sickles."

As James exchanged currency with Coffee Man, Lily quietly told him, "I'll pay you back later."

"Nonsense," James said with a wave of his hand. "It's tax money anyhow." He laughed at his own joke and withdrew another galleon to bribe the possible press informant. "That was never said."

Coffee Man took the second coin with more gusto than the first.

James meandered to the window-side table and pulled Lily's chair out before taking his own. Watching her, he noted how the candlelight deepened her crimson hair color and how, as she drank her tea, a warm glow, previously robbed by the night's cold air, returned to her face.

"It's strange to be here at night," she said conversationally between sips, not realizing his fascination with her, his bated breath in response to every word she spoke. "It seems so much cheerier during the daylight."

Nodding, he agreed. "Truth be told, this town isn't what the students perceive it as. A lot of undercover Ministry workers and Deatheaters live in Hogsmeade. The government likes to keep it here because then they'll know what's going on near the school, and any unofficial fighting can be called a bar brawl that moved to the streets. They all mill around the streets at night, you see."

Lily's eye's widened in alarm.

"Oh, no, no. Don't worry."

Her gaze began darting around the shop in a panicky survey, fixating finally on her cup. "People are looking at us through the window."

"Relax," he said, crossing his legs and leaning into the chair. "Look, in the case of an attack, just remember the golden rule."

She continued to stare into her tea as she thought before looking to him, confused. "What's that?"

"Leave the gun. Take the cannoli."

"This is serious. Stop joking around," she whispered magisterially while glancing 'discreetly' again through the window.

"Would you stop with that?" James snapped. "You're peering surreptitiously—they'll think you're up to something."

"How can you act so casually? I want to go back," she whispered with a violent tone, her eyes beginning to sport a red hue and shine with tears.

"Don't get upset. It's fine."

She shook her head angrily. "It is not."

"It is."

"It is not."

"It is."

"It most certainly is not!" Lily exclaimed, her voice beginning to crack.

"Calm down!"

"Take me back."

"Okay, just—"

"Take me back now," she repeated with insistency. "I want to go back."

James sighed. He'd managed to ruin their almost-maybe-kind-of-sort-of first date, of which his 'date' had no idea she was on. "Okay, come on."

"Thank you," she sniffed, and buttoned her coat.

Just as they stood, a green light shot sharply between them, splintering the muffin casing glass behind them and launching the muffins airborne. James caught a rouge cinnamon-topped blackberry muffin, tossed it to Lily, and grabbed her, pulling her into a sandwich between himself and the wall alongside the door. "I know, I know, it's not a cannoli, but we're not in Italy, so I figure the English equivalent will suffice."

Coffee Man ran into the back storeroom as he shouted for them to leave, and James unpocketed out his wand, looking briefly out the shop's glass door to locate the curse's sender.

"Don't panic," he told her as he released her from his embrace, only to find her clutching his overcoat relentlessly. "Just let go... let go... okay, that's good. Now put the muffin in your pocket and get out your wand."

"We're leaving now?!" she yelled as the hexing shouts grew louder from beyond the storefront's assaulted window.

Realizing she was too hysteric to follow orders, James took the muffin from her, dropped it into her pocket, and drew the zipper to secure it. "You want to go, you want to stay. Which is it?"

"They're killing people out there!" she rationed as her trembling hands turned white from gripping her wand with such force.

"Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but a coffee shop wall is a weak barricade against the killing curse," James said and pushed her to his other side. "Get behind me."

With little choice in the matter, Lily was pulled from the coffee shop's confines onto the street, where the hex lights appeared more vividly luminous. Unfortunately, though, what they illuminated were the masks of Deatheaters.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Author's Note: Happy Thanksgiving! Sorry for the delay in posting this. I originally was trying to write a sequence during the Quidditch Match, but it wasn't working the way I wanted it to, so I eventually just cut it out completely. Did you like the chapter? If yes, review. If no, review. If you're indifferent, review and say so. I am a public servant, so your wish is my command. Plot suggestions are welcome. What do you want to happen? And YES, the muffin is significant.

Check out my profile for a preview scene of the next chapter. Love to all, Nicole.


	10. Chapter 9: Kiss on the Mouth

**Pretty Mouth and Green Her Eyes**

By: Nicole Jeanine

Disclaimer: The original characters and storyline are mine. I do not believe I am JK Rowling, or that I own _Harry Potter_ in any way, shape, or form. I also do not believe I am JD Salinger and would like to thank him for the use of his title (I switched one word, though).

Summary: Five years after graduating, James Potter returns to Hogwarts as the defense professor. The residing Head Girl, Lily Evans, catches his attention and becomes irresistible yet seemingly unattainable.

**Chapter Nine: Kiss on the Mouth**

Outside the shop, the fighting had escalated to an extent far beyond James' understanding of the Hogsmeade microcosm the ministry and Deatheaters had created. Skilled wizards were obviously fighting, as only clouds of murky sand were visible rolling around the varied alleyways. He broke into a run up the cobbled street and began to vaporize when he felt Lily's small hand pull at the back of his jacket. At her touch, he realized he could not abandon her. With no luck whatsoever, though, once he stopped running and reached his hand toward hers, sand overtook him.

Shape shifting to match his competitor, he recognized the black mass as his former classmate Severus Snape, which James found particularly aggravating. They suddenly retook human form as they slammed into a wall, James absorbing most of the impact.

"Severus," James gritted through his teeth as he shoved his physically inferior opponent onto the muddy slush beneath their feet. "I see you still fail to think your plans through."

With a flick of his wand, James shielded himself from Snape's all-too-obvious hex and shot a random bone breaking curse straight into his adversary's arm.

Snape clutched his shoulder and rolled onto his stomach only to have James shove him onto his back again. Repeatedly he kicked Snape's ribcage with all the force he could muster until the wand fell from Snape's pallid hand. Snatching it, James snapped it in half and wrenched the fragments completely apart. Snape gasped and raised a hand in protest, but it was too late: he was defenseless. With a sigh, James looked to the squirming figure below him, dropped the pieces beside the fallen man, and out of pity, turned away.

"Go home, Severus," James called as he walked out of the alleyway. "You don't want this."

"Potter!" Snape called out in rage, though he sounded more in agony as the blood flowed freely from his mouth and colored the sludge he fought to stand in. "Potter!"

But James had already left in search of Lily. Turning onto the main alley where he left her, he saw no one. The street had been completely deserted.

His eyes scanned the scene again. And again. Empty, dark storefronts stared back at him, taunting him. Was she in one of them? He began sprinting toward the rubble. "Lily!"

No answer.

"Lily!" he shouted again, his voice beginning to tear from the mere desperation of his call.

An increasingly loud patter sounded from behind him. He whipped around and saw her running franticly toward him while glancing with terror over her shoulder.

"GO!" she screeched. "It's not what you think!—auh." She inhaled sharply as her shoe caught on between the rough bricks, causing her to tumble and, therein, to be a sitting target for what was about to come.

A red light pierced the dark street and hit Lily before James saw its sender, but now with the moon's illumination, Bellatrix Lestrange's outline became evident, as did the ten other cloaked figures who stepped onto the street behind her. Lily writhed, screaming in anguish under the _Crucio_ spell's hold. It was clearly not her first time at the mercy of Bellatrix that night, seen through the monstrous witch's shrill cackle.

Classifying James as 'irate' would be an understatement. His hands shook violently, imagining Bellatrix's throat convulsing beneath them, and his eyes lost their capacity to see the scene unfolding before him—leaving only the blinding shade of vengeance in his sight.

Unharnessed magic rebounded through the air and compelled the bricks from the town's housings to fly arbitrarily into the street, many striking the Deatheaters who seemed in awe of the display around them. Glass shattered under the reverberation of James' sonar-like effect, forming jagged icicles that stabbed at Bellatrix's huddle like daggers. As James crawled on the ground that trembled in his wake, he felt blindly for Lily, staying low to avoid the gruesome spectacle overhead. Finally his hand found her shuddering shoulder, and James took hold of her.

Suddenly, all stopped. A meadow.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Breathing heavily, James found himself in an open field, facing the sky as the sun sunk entirely below the horizon. The air was cold, though, and pulled at his lungs.

Lily, sprawled across his chest, unwittingly elbowed him as she sat in an unnecessary panic. Upon noting their stance in the icy lakeside clearing, she momentarily exhaled in relief before taking on a confused expression. "A frozen lake? It's not that cold in Britain yet." She turned around and looked to James with narrowed eyes. "Where are we?"

"Would you be mad if I said Russia?"

"WHAT?"

James laughed at his own joke. "I'm only kidding. I've no idea where we are."

She rolled her eyes and spat sarcastically, "Oh yes, now I'm not mad."

"Your words say no, but your eyes say 'I hate James'."

"Well, that's a surprise. Tell me, what now will be 'fine'? A werewolf attack? A reenactment of the Titanic?"

James furrowed his brow. "The Titanic?"

She stood with a wince from her earlier injury returning. "Yes. I assume that ship is a prop. What? Not to your liking? Very well, I'll go find some more Deatheaters. You seem to like the thrill of the chase."

With a sigh, James spoke softly. "L—Miss Evans, I'm sorry I left you, but I had no choice. What happened to you anyway? Everyone just disappeared."

Lily continued pouting as she glared. "Bellatrix Lestrange rounded on me. She thought I was a civilian and wasn't really expecting me to curse her. Well, when I stunned her, her groupies realized I was a student and picked me up in that cloud-thing. They were all whispering about the 'Dark Lord', who apparently has just lost the support of the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest. Dumbledore and the Aurors weren't letting them past Hogsmeade, and they wanted to use me as a bargaining chip. So then I took out the muffin, like you said to, and the one that had hold of my arms wasn't expecting that, I guess, so he dropped me. I fell and started to run when I ran into Bellatrix again. We dueled, and I was winning, so I thought I'd make a run back to where I saw you go, and then you apparated us to the highlands of God knows what country."

James doubled over in laughter.

"This was not funny."

"You—" he started before bursting into laughter again (A/N: I wrote "bursting into muffins" the first time I attempted this sentence... interesting image). "You gave him the muffin?!"

She looked indignantly to him. "Well, you told me to."

James shook his head, still spluttering laughter. "I was just trying to cheer you up. But you gave him the muffin!" Tears began running down his face.

"Stop that."

"Wait, wait. What did you say to him?"

Lily shrugged and looked away. "I don't know. 'Would you like a muffin?' or something."

James rolled on the frost coated ground visibly shaking with laughter, unable to stop the tears. "No! You didn't!"

"It was your idea! Look, just forget the muffin. Where are we now?"

"'Would you like a muffin?'" James repeated wiping his eyes. "Okay, okay. I'm okay. Alright, let's go." He stood up and began to walk toward the ship in the distance along the lake's bank.

"Go where?" Lily questioned, jogging to keep up with him.

"We need to catch that boat. Hate to disappoint, but it's not exactly camping weather. Thus, we shall 'stow away', I believe is the term you kids use. With any luck, our ship will head toward the UK," he explained before resuming his laughter. "You're going to be a legend: escaping Deatheaters armed only with a baked good. Just think of the press conference! 'Miss Evans, question: How significant was the role of frosting in this ordeal?' Ha!"

She crossed her arms defensively and muttered, "You told me to."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The pair crouched behind some shrubbery near the boat, which proved a decent size. Irish accents could be heard from the upper deck in a promising sign toward their destination, but James and Lily were not aiming for the upper deck. They needed to board the lower.

"Okay, so no magic if anything goes wrong. I don't want anything traceable," James reminded as they inconspicuously unloaded a spacious trunk, previously filled with, to Lily's dismay, muffin mix boxes, all of which were now buried in a hole behind their shrub. "The last thing we'd want to do is sink the 'Sara Lee', which is now the code name for the boat. Now, I'll go first," he declared, slipping into the crate.

Lily followed closely and secured the lid, which might have been a bit premature. Their arms and legs tangled in the darkness as James was repeatedly prodded in the face by knees and elbows, a few of which were his. After squirming for a while, Lily finally kneed him in the place where a man ought not to be kneed, and James' outburst caused the box to tumble sideways.

"Okay! This is fine. Let's just not move anymore," James said.

"But my feet are above my head. I'll lose circulation," she whined.

"You know what, better you lose blood flow than me be castrated."

Lily had no argument.

A half hour later, they were hoisted into the air and carried into the lower cabin. The crewmen left in a rush, and it seemed to be mere moments after they left, the boat embarked on its journey.

"Well," James said as he sprang out of the box, "we must have been the last of the load." He stepped into their cramped living space to find the room almost completely gridlocked with boxes. A low ceiling forced him to duck when standing, while the single, narrow aisle way confined his shoulders. Lily, of course, had none of these problems.

"I call the cot!" she exclaimed, hopping onto the single cot the space provided.

"No, no. I am the elder. Rule of age."

Lily reclined onto the flat mattress, flaunting her claim to the bed. "Ladies first. Code of Chivalry."

"Nope. Up you go. Come on," James said while making gestures for her relocation. "You can have this nice long box here, right across the aisle."

Lily looked to the long, desolate, rotting case that laid parallel to her cot and scoffed. "I think not. This is your doing. If you had just escorted me back to castle, I would have never been abandoned and then attacked. And now, there's a good fifty pounds of muffin mix buried in the Siberian forest near the loading dock of a Betty Crocker factory. We've stolen that merchandise, lest you forget."

"Not stolen, merely redistributed. And I told you we should have left an Easy Bake Oven, too. The raccoons have no chance now."

"Hopefully your jokes will keep you company on your box."

James sat on the box and laid back on it, kicking his feet up. "Fine, you'll just have to sit over there on your worn-out mattress and hear how awesome my box lid is."

Lily unfolded a blanket from the foot of the bed. "Hold on, let me just wrap myself in my blanket first. Wait... alright. You may proceed to speak of the 'awesomeness' of mold."

His jaw dropped at the sight of her blanket. "Okay, that's just mean."

She exhaled and curled up into the blanket, causing James to feel just a little bit better about letting her win the cot.

James watched her in silence for a few minutes as she attempted to fashion a joint pillow-blanket out of the thick fabric. Finally, he redirected his eyes to look through their port window in search of small talk. "The moonlight is nice, huh? It's always more calming than the sun."

"The funny thing about that is that all light is reflected light. Basically, the sun and stars have the light, and it reflects off of things—especially the moon. When you look at anything under the sunlight or moonlight, in theory, you see the sun."

He sighed. They were on this subject again. "So all I can see is the sun?"

Lily shrugged. "I think there is more... kind of. You see it without knowing it."

James grinned. "Well, you have my attention now. Elaborate."

She turned onto her side and eagerly explained, "Remember how I was saying all things outside the universe don't have location like we know it? Well, if we were outside, where there's no location and therefore no shape, I couldn't see you how I see you now."

"But you could still see me?"

"Maybe 'see' isn't the right word," she reconsidered. "I just think that if all light is 'reflected light,' it has to be reflected off of a surface. That surface, though, would fade away once you can't have shape, and inside there could be a different kind of light. A type light that's unimaginable... a new color spectrum. I'd like to think that on a subconscious level, my... 'inner' light can see your 'inner' light."

James scrunched his nose. "I don't know if that could work. If you're saying that our light exists in a place with no location, how can it be in a certain location now?"

"Because of the interference."

James chuckled a bit and began to speak.

"No, look," she cut in, moving to sit directly facing him. "Just close your eyes."

"It's dark already."

"Close them," she ordered.

James swung his legs off the box to face her and and shut his eyes. "Alright."

Without speaking, Lily sat watching him for a minute. "Can you tell I'm here? Even if I don't say anything?"

He raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Well, I know you're here."

"But can you see me? Or feel my presence, rather?"

James laughed to himself. "You're one of those flower children, aren't you? All of this 'feel my aura' talk."

"Come on," Lily giggled. "Is there something about me, something that you can just feel?"

James concentrated intensely on her, picturing her and trying to feel her with his mind. His senses heightened, and he noticed the air pass over his palms and then retract: her breath. He gulped and bit his lip. "There's something about you." He opened his eyes to find her sitting on her cot's edge, serenely cross-legged with her eyes shut tightly.

"There's something about you, too."

"No," he said resolutely, causing her to lift an eyelid and peer curiously at him. "There's something...wonderful about you."

Opening her other eye and resting her head in a hand, she thought briefly before responding with a smile, "I think you're nice, too."

James sighed and dropped his gaze to his hands while trying to smoothe his scuffed nails. She did not understand. "Okay. Well, thanks." After the moment passed, he glanced back to her and realized she still was staring, her head tilted slightly askew.

"You've been really tolerant," she spoke softly.

He scoffed jocularly. "You say that like it's out of character. Tolerance is my middle name. JTP. In the ghetto, you see, I go by JT. Or Jay-Tol, as some like to abbreviate it."

She giggled again. "You're crazy."

"I've been told this before."

Reaching her hands behind her back, she yawned. "I'm tired."

James nodded in agreement. "Long night."

"Very," she said, hesitantly pausing before beginning a soft stutter.

"If you're about to ask me to tuck you into your _bed_, save yourself the rejection. If you're about to come to your senses and let me have the cot, I shall forgive you for your earlier err," James proclaimed with sarcasm as he laid back onto his box, which had acquired a rather musty odor from his warmth intermixing with the cold water lodged within the box's wooden frame.

A small voice came from Lily's half of the cabin with the words "Do you want to share it?"

James looked to her, only to lose himself in her eyes, which seemed to enlarge whenever she cajoled him. "I..." he trailed off, shaking his head.

"Really, it's fine with me. You shouldn't sleep on a box," she pleaded, moving closer to the wall to give him space.

"Miss E—" he started before sighing and lowering his voice. "Lily, I can't."

"But... I'm still... nervous. Please, I won't say anything."

He surveyed her face and began to forget the reasoning behind his refusal. "I really, really can't."

"There's room for both of us."

James exhaled. Against his better judgment, he stood and reseated himself on her cot. Feeling an unexpected tension, he met her gaze. She looked different so close. In a friendly gesture, she extended part of the blanket to him, but he declined, allowing the thick wool to separate their bodies. They sat propped on their elbows, fearing to be forward first with the other, until she pushed his shoulder gently. Following her lead, he stiffly laid so that his back rested flat against the thin cot. In comparison, James realized, the box showed little difference.

She snuggled into his side, only distressing him more. This was wrong, and he knew it. Why could he not bring himself push her away? James turned his head toward her, but their eyes did not meet.

After the moments of adjustment calmed, Lily broke the silence with a whisper. "What if they find us?"

James repositioned himself so their eyes aligned. "They won't," he said confidently, trying to assuage her doubts.

She draped an arm over him to tug at his sleeve. Per her request, he placed his hand on her slender arm, which rested atop his stomach. He took a few deep breaths, watching her arm rise and fall with his respiration. "And if they ever do, I'll protect you."

Lily smiled slightly.

Already past the realm of better judgment, James furthered beyond average judgment and into denial as he moved his face toward hers, whispering in her ear, "I'll always, always protect you." And as he pulled his mouth from her ear, he lowered it onto her lips to place a very firm, very platonic kiss on her mouth.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Author's Note: Happy Christmas! And in the spirit of said holiday, everyone should review!! Tell me if you think it's being rushed, because if it is, I will cut it and repost. It thought since so many people were wanting it to kick into gear, I'd make it a type of present. The light/color discussion made a reappearance for those of you who enjoyed Chapter 7... how did you like it? And the action sequence toward the beginning? Upgrade or downgrade? It's kind of like how magical children can't control their magic when they can't control their emotions...

I'm holding out for 119 reviews, so click the button! You know you want to.

Live well this holiday. Love to all, Nicole.


	11. Chapter 10: The Return of Mr Potter

**Pretty Mouth and Green Her Eyes**

By: Nicole Jeanine

Disclaimer: The original characters and storyline are mine. I do not believe I am JK Rowling, or that I own _Harry Potter_ in any way, shape, or form. I also do not believe I am JD Salinger and would like to thank him for the use of his title (I switched one word, though).

Summary: Five years after graduating, James Potter returns to Hogwarts as the defense professor. The residing Head Girl, Lily Evans, catches his attention and becomes irresistible yet seemingly unattainable.

**Chapter Ten: The Return of Mr. Potter**

Luckily for James, his student did not contemplate the midnight kiss much and regarded it as more of a friendly gesture. They fell asleep soon after, only to wake four hours later to the sound of the ship's foghorn. Nearly to the London coast, James coaxed Lily into jumping overboard into the bay to make their escape easier, forgetting their plan to not use magic. Drenched, they trekked through the London streets fashioned in their wizarding capes, which attracted more attention than the use of magic would have in the end. James, determined not to worsen their traceability, still refused to allow her to cast a drying charm, arguing his point with her until they arrived at the muggle apartment building, where he lived with his fellow Marauders.

As they stood in front of his apartment door atop the welcome mat the boys had laid in the hallway, Lily looked curiously from the wall mounted British flag to the fan positioned opposite on the ceiling, clearly meant to cause the flag to rustle 'in the wind.' Even more odd, perhaps, was the screen door—what hallway inhabiting insects could the wooden door possibly need protection from? The apartment complex walkway seemed a suburban porch, complete with a flickering wall hung light fixture.

"Nice set up. Ever think of adding patio furniture?"

James smiled. "This was Sirius's idea, actually. He skimmed through a few muggle domestic magazines before we moved in to help us blend into the non-magic community. I guess he missed the mark a bit."

She nodded as noise seeped from the apartment into the corridor. After footsteps grew louder and then paused while someone checked the peephole view, the door excitedly whipped open. Sirius Black, smiling ridiculously, pounced onto James, sending the pair of them to the ground.

"JAMEY!" Sirius shouted at the absolute top of his lungs, only to slap James across the face, suddenly taking on an angry persona. "Where have you been?! No note, AGAIN?! I'll have you know every Auror in the department is searching for you and that girl! Your father is furi—" His speech broke as he noticed Lily standing awkwardly near the door frame, pulling on her hair while glancing around the hallway.

Remus jogged outside of the door with shaving cream coating half of his chin and a hand towel around his neck. "James! You're alive!" he said, pulling James from underneathe Sirius and giving him a manly hug. He stopped abruptly, however, and pushed James away. "Wait. Where's the girl?"

"She's right there, Remus," Sirius said, still staring at her from the floor.

Following Sirius' gaze, Remus turned toward Lily and smiled warmly. "Oh, well that's a relief," he sighed, extending a hand to her. "Hello, I'm Remus."

"Forget the formalities, Remus," Sirius muttered, not breaking eye contact with Lily, who was beginning to become unnerved. "We already know her."

Lily took Remus's hand anyway and shook it, trying to stop the strange staring contest Sirius had started. "You, erm, probably wouldn't... errr." She looked to James for help before glancing back to the floor-seated Marauder, who was still eyeing her.

Sirius tilted his head, as small puppies do when spoken to.

"Yes," James interceded, receiving her hint and moving to stand next to her. "You might not remember her, but this is—"

"Lily Evans," Sirius finished.

Lily nodded. "Yes. I'm Lily."

"Yes," he repeated her.

Lily nodded again. "Yes."

Reciprocating her nod, he looked her up and down.

"Alright," James said curiously. "What's going on?"

Sirius rose from the floor and shook his hair from his face. "Lily and I know each other, that's all."

Calculating the statement, Remus frowned. "Hold on. Don't we all know her?"

"Yes, but we—her and I, that is—ran into each other more recently. We _all_ know her from school. You know, the hallway's a touch too small for four full grown people; we'd best move inside."

Once inside, they clustered in the living area, and before James had a chance to interrogate Sirius about the nature of his encounter with Lily, Sirius demanded a step-by-step recount of the previous day's occurrences. He added his commentary to the entire story, causing Lily to giggle periodically and therein furthering James' suspicions of their relationship. They both had given the most bizarre series of reactions to re-meeting each other.

As James concluded their story, which had been told with a few key omissions, including Snape's appearance and their platonic-yet-not-platonic kiss, Sirius interjected. "Okay, so in summary: you kidnapped a student—a female student—and took her to your apartment?"

Remus laughed as James fumed.

"No, that's not what happened—" Lily started to defend before James cut her off.

"He's not serious—"

"I am Sirius."

James glared and redirected his gaze to Lily. "He's just being... a git."

Throwing himself backward into the couch, Sirius put a hand over his heart. "Oh, you slay me!"

"Shut up, Sirius."

Sirius clucked his tongue. "Ooo, do Jamey's kinckers have a knot in them? I will not shut up, nor will I sod off," he said, predicting his friend's next retort. "I'm just telling you what the papers will read tomorrow. Reality check, James. This is far worse than you think it is. For God's sakes, you nearly murdered Snivelly last night. Not only is your father trying to hunt you down, but Dumbledore's not particularly thrilled with your choices either."

James was flustered with this comment. "How did you know about Snape?"

Rolling his eyes, Sirius smacked James with a throw pillow. "Snivelly joined the Order a month ago, you dolt. He's the war's first double agent. He's been assigned to Hogwarts to attack _you_ if the Deatheaters ever invade the grounds because everyone will think it's just the old school rivalry, and you will then be able to escape. Please tell me you've read Mad Eye's letters."

"Oh," James said, remembering a distinct moment where he placed an envelope from the Ministry in his locked desk drawer so it would be secured until he found time to read its contents.

"You, James Potter, are the git. You've turned on your own side!"

"Oh, honestly, Sirius! You will never acknowledge Snape's presence on our side, so get off your high horse."

Sirius shook his finger scoldingly at James. "Deflecting."

"Miss Evans, come with me. I'll show you where the bathroom is," James said, blatantly ignoring Sirius as he rose from the couch and waved his hand toward a short hallway. "You can shower while Remus drys your clothes."

"Why am I always volunteered for the domestic tasks?" Remus whined while straightening the couch cushions the group had dented.

"I don't know if you're aware of 'laundry mats', but there's one in our building," James stated before explaining, "They wash clothing."

"But only clothing," Sirius chimed in, locking eyes once again with Lily. "Lampshades don't hold up well. Take my word."

James led her to the washroom, going in first to clean briefly, which meant shoving the counter top's contents into a cabinet under the sink. He exhaled and turned to her while leaning against the wall. "Sorry about this."

Lily looked around the room and shrugged before squinting at him. "It's fine in here. The wallpaper is a bit questionable, but that's a minor detail," she commented, drawing from the chickadee covered walls. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of miniature chickadees surrounded them, perched atop frosty wooden branches with the occasional berry bunch to counterbalance the birds' weight.

"No, I mean... I don't know what I mean. This was just a mistake."

"What part?"

James sighed and brought his hands to his face, feeling the stubble on his chin. "The first part."

"You were just being friendly," she said simply. When he did not respond, though, she asked for clarification. "Right?"

"Yeah," he replied vaguely while looking around the bathroom, glad to finally be alone with her again. This was probably the first time in his life he wished Sirius and Remus would just leave him be. "Well, the towels are in here, so I'll get one," he said, reaching behind her to a cabinet.

She moved forward, and, because of the small room, into him, so he could reach around her. James, however, mistook this and put his arms around her, pulling her into his embrace. Realizing his mistake, or maybe her mistake, Lily hesitantly accepted the hug and placed a comforting hand on his back.

He pushed her away after a few seconds passed and completed his goal of obtaining a towel. "Thanks for that. For what it's worth, I'll put up a fight against them obliviating you. You've already heard too much, but I don't believe in erasing memories. The Ministry hates me for that... Speaking of the Ministry, I'm going to have to answer to my father before long. I just know he's going to show up at the worst moment possible. I can tell you right now, I have already been written out of his will over this." He exhaled heavily. "Well, here you go. One towel."

Taking it from him, she inspected it for a second, turning over the matted cheap cotton weave in her hands.

James chuckled and snatched it from her, stretching into the closet again. This time, he extracted a much larger, comfier emerald green towel. "Let's try this. One quality towel, eh?"

She smiled and happily took the substitution, snuggling into it slightly as she held it.

Watching her, he was oddly entranced by this. "Yes, well, that's my towel, so handle it with care."

"Oh, well if it's yours—"

"No, no, it is yours for today."

With a smile, she said, "Thanks," and proceeded to unbutton her cloak.

"Oh, um..." James turned spasmodically, unsure of whether he should leave or face the wall.

Lily giggled lightly. "Relax. It's just my coat."

James looked toward her to see her drape her cloak over the counter top and unwrap the scarf from her neck.

"I believe this is yours," she said, extending it to him.

"Oh. Yes, it is. Erm, thanks," he muttered awkwardly while putting a hand on his neck and diverting his eyes. He could clearly see her bra through her shirt, still damp from their early morning swim.

She looked to him expectingly.

Standing fully, he started toward the door. "Okay, well if you need anything just call, and you can just throw your clothes outside the door after you've... well, yes. Okay," he repeated as he gripped the door handle.

"Wait," she called.

Confused, he halted and looked to her. "What?"

"Could you show me how to start the shower?"

James glanced at the chain hanging from the ceiling above the bathtub. "Oh, right. Okay, so you just come over here," he said, guiding her with a hand on her shoulder to the tub area. "And then you turn this valve on the wall, and pull on the chain."

While demonstrating, he repositioned his hand to her back to balance himself as he reached across the basin to grasp the chain, and looked down to her, only to get a much clearer view of the undergarment he had previously seen. It was obviously dark green, no different than his towel's coloration, with white polka dots over the fabric. Eyeing her chest discreetly, he inched his hand upward in his delirious state, to rest his fingertips against the bra's back band, and accordingly, he lost his balance, toppling both of them into the bathtub.

In his panic during the fall, he grasped for support, pulling the chain and enabling the shower head. Water pounded against them as the pair untangled themselves, coming to rest seated oppositely in the large porcelain bowl. James had unwittingly lifted Lily's skirt in their final motion to separate, causing her to yank the material into place while giving him a disapproving look.

He was about to protest her facial expression, just as a throat cleared in the doorway.

Mr. Potter stood observing his son sitting in the bathtub with the student he had disappeared with the previous night. "Hello, James," he spoke in a falsely calm tone. "A word... when you're through." With a final hard look to James, he vacated the door frame and returned to the apartment's living area.

"_Damn it_," James cursed after his father left as he slammed his hands into the tub's base, creating two small splashes.

Lily shrugged and peeled some of her clinging wet hair from her face. "He seems nice to me."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Forty-five minutes later, James heard the water turn off. He had been pacing in angry circles around the kitchen table as his father lectured him on responsibility, only pausing to hear what had led to the present situation. Sirius smartly had accompanied Remus to the laundry mat to avoid the crossfire, leaving only the two feuding men and one showering lady in the apartment.

"I don't know what gave you your sudden epiphany to teach, but I hope it wasn't the lure of seventeen year olds, because I will not have my son go to Azkaban for some sort of civil crime! At least have your inevitable arrest be honorable, James."

James jaw locked, as his ears grew possibly even more red. "Shut the hell up! You know I'd never do that to her, or any other student!"

"Do I James? Do I? Because that's not what I'm seeing!"

"You're basing this on one misinterpreted accident, and you're accusing m—"

"Misinterpreted my arse, James! You looked down her shirt and were so distracted, you fell over," Harold spat, breaking into a sweat.

"I did not lo—"

"You did, and don't even waste your breath refuting it."

"You're wrong, and you're too stubborn to admit it. This is why Mom has you sleep in a different room, because you're just so damn incorrigible—"

"You shut up, James. You don't know what you're talking about—"

"Oh, really? Well that makes two of us then."

"I'm two seconds away from giving Dumbledore a government mandate to dismiss you from your post, I'll have you know."

"Nothing's stopping you, just like nothing was stopping you before. All you give is empty threats."

"No, James. I give you second chances, and look what you do with them!"

"She was sick—"

"Then take her to the hospital at the school. You're not a medic; you're her teacher. That's not your job, and you know it."

"Forgive me for being a gentleman."

"So according to you, a gentleman takes his female student to his apartment after forcing her to be attacked?!"

"I in no way 'forced her to be attacked.' That's ridiculous! Can you hear yourself?!"

"Can you hear me?! I mean, she's pretty, and she's probably funny also, but get a hold of yourself, James. You're a teacher now, and they can't bend the rules at the school for you anymore just because of who you are. You're dispensable now."

"There's no need to bend anything—"

"You took a student off school grounds without notifying anyone. And with the purpose of getting coffee, none the less! James, you practically took her on a date!"

"I'm not even going to continue this conversation with you because you're not listening. If Dumbledore wants to discuss this with me, then fine, but I will not continue this with you." James said firmly, letting his hatred permeate his speech.

Mr. Potter grabbed his overcoat and stormed into the hallway while let the door slam roughly behind him.

With a heavy sigh, James sat on the large armchair across from their fireplace, letting his elbows rest on his knees and his head rest in his hands. After unwinding for a few minutes, he remembered Lily had stopped the water and probably was waiting for her clothes in the bathroom. But she wasn't in the bathroom James found upon walking to the washroom door, which stood ajar.

Where would she have gone in a towel? He looked down the corridor and into the bedrooms, finding her in the one at the hall's end, with her seated on the bed's edge, staring at a menagerie of framed photographs.

"This is your room."

James exhaled and sat next to her. "Yes."

Drawing the towel more tightly around her slender figure with the receiving of company, she continued to examine the pictures of young James with his friends. "Are my clothes dry?"

"Not quite. Remus isn't the model housewife."

Lily smiled.

James stood and walked to his dresser, pulling out a grey tee shirt and faded black pair of shorts from the top drawer. "If you don't want to wait around in a towel for another hour, you can borrow these. They're clean. I promise."

Lily took them with gratitude and stood as she quietly asked, "Could you turn around?"

He nodded and walked to the door, pulling it closed and then staring at its paneling, not sure as to why he did not step into the hallway.

Un-toweling herself, she slipped his shirt over her head and let the fabric fall around her torso. Remus had good taste in fabric softener. The exercise shorts were clearly meant to be form fitting, but instead hung loosely over her hips. "You can turn around now."

When he looked to her, she had her nose buried in part of the shirt she had scrunched into a ball.

"It smells like you."

James smiled and retook his seat on the bed. "Really? What do I smell like?"

She moved her shoulders upward as she sat Indian style on the bed next to him. "Like... you. I dunno," she slurred as she held the fabric up to James. "What do you think it smells like?"

Looking from her eyes to the distorted ball of cotton, he sniffed the shirt from a distance. "It smells like you, now."

Lily giggled just in the way she always giggled, the way that drove James crazy. "And what do I smell like?"

"Hmmm, I'd say you smell like gardenias."

"Gardenias? Another flower variety from your mother's garden?"

"Yes, actually," James laughed as his father opened the bedroom door, giving a harsh end to the merriment.

"Keep the door open, James," Mr. Potter commanded softly while glancing between them. The elder man sighed heavily from the hallway as he rubbed his eyes, clearly tired from a sleepless night. His overcoat was on, as if he was leaving soon, but instead he stepped inside and sat on a tabletop near the door.

"Hello, Lily Evans. I don't believe we've ever formally met."

"Hello, sir," she greeted cautiously, remembering the earlier argument she had overheard from the bathroom.

"You know, my wife and I are very proud of that garden," remarked offhandedly, only to receive a nasty look from his son. "I wasn't eavesdropping, I just overheard. The walls aren't exactly concrete."

James expression relented, and his sight line fell indignantly to his shoes.

They sat in silence for a moment, broken by Harold suggesting in his gravelly voice, "Perhaps you'd like to see it, Miss Evans? My wife and I are having a Christmas Ball over the winter holidays, and we'd be honored if you came."

Lily looked completely shocked, as did her professor. "...Err—"

"There's no obligation. It's merely an invitation. You don't have to RSVP on the spot—"

"No," she cut him off. "I'd love to. Thank you, sir."

Mr. Potter grinned slightly. She had been the first person to interrupt him for quite some time, and he found it rather refreshing. Her charm was apparent. "Well, I shall look forward to our next encounter. Unfortunately, I must return to the Ministry as soon as possible; I have a new series of records to file. Good morning, Miss Evans, James," he said as he stood, tipped his hat to them, and departed from the room, then from the apartment.

"He's not really that pleasant," James muttered after hearing the door to the hallway close.

Lily nodded distractedly.

"After breakfast, we'd best head back to the school. There's a way to floo there, but it will take a while."

"I don't think either of us are in a rush."

James chuckled. "Yes. That's quite true."

She laid back onto the bed, and stared at the canopy above them. "Would it be alright if I took a nap until Remus is back? I couldn't sleep well last night."

Nodding, James stood. "Sure. Here, I'll tuck you in. Come on," he said, dragging her to the top of the bed and pulling the comforter over her. "I'll start breakfast. Are waffles okay? My pancakes are more like pan-muffins. They're pretty disgusting. But the waffle maker cooperates better."

"Waffles are fine," she said, closing her eyes and resting before their return to Hogwarts, where rumors had already begun to circulate.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. I got wrapped up in some things that are best not to be wrapped up in, and I've just been kind of upset lately. Hopefully you like the update. Please review, even if it's to tell me how awful I am for not updating or to tell me that the story is horrid... Any compliment or criticism shall be well received, so speak your mind!

Until later, Nicole.


	12. Chapter 11: A Hard Day's Night

**Pretty Mouth and Green Her Eyes**

By: Nicole Jeanine

Disclaimer: The original characters and storyline are mine. I do not believe I am JK Rowling, or that I own _Harry Potter_ in any way, shape, or form. I also do not believe I am JD Salinger and would like to thank him for the use of his title (I switched one word, though).For this chapter, I additionally would like to clarify that I do not own the Beatles's song "A Hard Day's Night."

Summary: Five years after graduating, James Potter returns to Hogwarts as the defense professor. The residing Head Girl, Lily Evans, catches his attention and becomes irresistible yet seemingly unattainable.

**Chapter Eleven: A Hard Day's Night**

James entered the Headmaster's study with an air of apprehension after his return to the castle. Professor McGonagall met James and Lily at the castle gate and escorted them to the Hospital Wing, all the while glancing disapprovingly at James, who merely shrugged in a weak defense. He admittedly had no defense—he'd be lucky to avoid dismissal, let alone probation.

'Alright, James, just tell him the truth, and act normal. Nothing wrong happened,' James reassured himself just before clearing his throat to signify his presence.

With a slight jolt of surprise, the elder wizard, whose head had been bent over the long desk, following his hand writing in a frantic slanted scrawl, raised his head while simultaneously dropping his quill. He smiled kindly, making James all the more skeptical, and called, "Ah, James. Come in, come in. Lovely night, is it not?"

Stepping further into the space, James' eyes swept the room, noticing the familiar relatively level bookshelves that were, if nothing else, consistently askew and consistently cluttered. Randomly suspended owl cages oscillated like pendulums in the open window's draft, causing an occasional hoot as a young owlet fell from its perch. "Interesting hobby. Are you planning on training them to perform or just to deliver mail? Because that little gray one, I think, would make an excellent lead in an aviary ballet. Or possibly a tap number."

"Oh, yes, little Adhara? You know, I noticed she had leadership potential. I do believe she shall go onto great things one day. Owls are oddly like people in that sense—you can sense their command for greatness," Dumbledore said while shuffling papers around his desk, which much resembled the disarray atop the shelves. "Would you like her, James?"

James stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked appraisingly to the bird. "I probably would. I mean, I don't know her, but I can't imagine myself being mortal enemies with a bird."

Chuckling lightly, Dumbledore waved his hand before clarifying, "Oh, no, no. I meant to have, to raise."

"Oh," James whispered. He was being offered an owl... how Dumbledore-like. What was the double meaning to this? What was he really being offered? Was this a test? "I wouldn't want to take your owl, sir. You're obviously fond of it."

"Nonsense," Dumbledore said, rounding the desk to remove the petite cage from it's hook and handing it to James. "You were far more taken with this bird than anyone else could be. For every bird there is one, and only one, owner who can truly appreciate it. I found her, along with her siblings," he added, gesturing to the other owlets, "abandoned by the edge of the Forbidden Forest. I suspect their mother fell victim to the Whomping Willow. This one put up a fight, though, and would fly circles around me as I tried to offer her the cage, like she was playing a game. It was quite extraordinary."

James nodded vaguely. Was this the intended subject of their meeting? Owlets?

"After a time, I began to sing to her and offered her my finger to perch on. She flew right on to my index finger," he said with a nostalgic gaze toward his hand. "With patience, you will often find that things will turn out right in due time. It's important to wait, though, for if I had, say, moved to capture her myself, I would have missed such a wonderful experience."

Realization passed over James.

"Her little talons ever so gently clutched onto my finger, and with that, a friendship was born."

James nodded with authority, determined to attest to his sound morals. "And friendship is the most valuable tool we can have in our possession."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in response. "Only second to love, James. Only second to love."

During her transfer from hand to hand, Adhara began hooting softly and ruffling her feathers, confused, yet when lifted to eye level, her eyes locked with James' and searched the deep pools of chocolate, assuaging her doubts.

"Thank you very much, sir."

"James, one cannot deny such an instant connection between two beings."

Nodding along, James across from the Headmaster, who had resumed his place behind the his desk.

"Very, well. I've read your father's report of the attack. It was very responsible of you to file that immediately."

"Well, I know the protocol better than anyone," James said with a lopsided smile, reclining into the armchair. "I know I'm not an Auror anymore, but it is my professional opinion, as a trained Auror that Hogsmeade is not safe for the students. Especially the younger ones who've only had a few years of wand training."

Solmenly, Dumbledore nodded. "I agree. I've drafted an executive order restricting Years One through Five from visiting Hogsmeade," he announced, followed by a heavy sigh. "I do hate making executive orders."

Fiddling with the fringe on a throw pillow and no longer fearing for his job, James commented, "Yes, but it is sometimes unavoidable. War can cause many unavoidable incidents."

The elder wizard laughed in response. "Very wise, James."

James blushed slightly before placing the throw pillow back onto the chair.

"The reason I've called on you is to merely remind you that the second Monday in October is our annual career advisement for the Seventh Years. You'll only need a five minute presentation—nothing terribly elaborate—on career paths in the defense field, and if students are interested afterward, they'll arrange a private meeting with you one day after classes this week."

"Yes, sir. I'll get to work, then, if that's alright with you," James said as he rose and started meandering toward the door, owl cage in hand.

"Very well."

"Goodnight, Professor."

"Have a good night, James."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

James smiled fondly to his new companion upon entering his office and placing her housing onto his desktop. Leaving the door open, he tossed his cloak over the table top and un-tucked his shirt, subconsciously running a hand through his messed hair. Strangely, he found himself fully conscious, not tired in the least.

A knock from the door startled him.

"Sorry," Lily whispered, sheepishly slipping inside the room and drawing the door behind her. Clad in a nightgown and overcloak, she looked oddly like an actress playing a part in a romantic comedy who is caught in an embarrassing state of dress. "I thought you'd be asleep already. I was just going to leave these here for you." Her hand held up James' gym shorts and t-shirt, neatly folded.

"Oh, thanks," he said, still speaking softly and taking the clothing from her.

Hands free, she folded her arms across her chest. "You haven't been reprimanded have you? The attack wasn't your fault, you know," she spoke, her words massaging into him. The look of concern in her eyes was overwhelming; he could feel emotion pouring from her pools of emerald, which were intensified by the sharp contrast of the moonlight reflecting white surrounding her irises.

James stared in response.

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a lazy smile. "What?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing. Nothing happened," he grinned back to her and leaned against his desk, furrowing his brow at Adhara. "Dumbledore gave me a bird, though."

"That bird?" she asked, looking to Adhara.

"No, the other one."

Perplexed, she looked around the office in search of another bird before realizing and punching him playfully in the arm. "You're so... ugh," she sounded, pulling a face and giggling. "Wow, I'm wide awake. What time is it anyhow?"

James pulled his pocket watch from his discarded jacket to verify before responding, "Nearly eleven o'clock." He flipped his watch through his fingertips before snapping it shut and glancing to her.

"You're so cool."

"That's always my angle. You know me, Kool Kat James—spelled with two 'k's, of course. They call me KK Jay whenever I play my saxophone in downtown London, on the street corners. Did you know that I'm actually the quintessential starving artist?"

She laughed quietly, scrunching her nose slightly as her smile widened, and walked over to the owlet's cage, stretching a finger through the wired grid to stroke Adhara's feathers.

Taking a moment while she was preoccupied, James stole a look to her outfit. She was wearing that same coat she always wore, but the nightgown underneath was new to James. It was white with light green miniature bundles of flowers sporadically woven into the cotton, which seemed dangerously soft. His hand twitched.

"I didn't wash them yet," Lily said, turning back toward him. "Hope you don't mind."

He shrugged and tossed the clothes from one palm to the other. "Don't worry about it."

"Okay. Well, I've got to write a paper for Transfiguration still tonight, so I guess I should get started."

"Alright," James said, crossing the room to open the door for her. "Until tomorrow, my lady."

She turned once outside, her feet dragging across the stonework. "I'll be counting the hours."

With a steadfast expression, James called to her histrionically, "I'll be counting the minutes!" in the most refined British accent he could manage.

Lily did a quick spin and giggle before disappearing from his sight.

Exhaling deeply, he swung, with one hand on the door frame, into his office again with a melancholic look to Adhara. "I know. I know," he told the bird, who tilted her head in response. "You don't have to say anything."

Suddenly, his overcoat pocket began vibrating, slightly at first, but with growing vigor. James cautiously peered inside the moving cloth to discover an familiar antiqued mirror with a familiar face in its frame.

"Sirius? My God, did you put this in my pocket at the apartment? Wow, I haven't seen this in years..."

"Yes, trip down memory lane, laughs, tears, hugging," Sirius whispered sarcastically. "Listen, I haven't got much time. I've, err, invited someone over," he insinuated with a sleazy wink, "but I've got to talk to you for a minute."

James restrained an eye roll, instead replying, "Look, I've told you: it only works within the first 48 hours, so no, you don't have time to—"

"No, no, no. This is about _your_ woman. Lily Evans."

"What? Look, just give me a second, okay?" Scowling, James picked up Adhara and entered his private rooms. He placed her bedside and flopped idly across his bed, resting his face on one hand while holding the mirror upright with the other. "Alright, what's up with you and her? Where have you seen her?"

Sirius looked away for a second before answering, allowing James to study the situation. Sirius looked different than he used to through the mirror—his eyes were more sunken, his skin less elastic. So much time had passed since they had stayed up late talking to each other through these double mirrors in the school dormitories...

"Do you remember the night I was hurt? You know, just before you... well, and then I got demoted?"

"Yeah, okay. Where does Lily come into play?"

"That night I was assigned to find the two girls of the house Voldemort had attacked. The two girls—_Petunia and Lily Evans_—had left the house about a half an hour before the attack with _Severus Snape_." Sirius pulled back his hair in frustration. "James, that girl in the forest who hexed me almost to death, was Lily Evans. _Your_ Lily Evans. I mean, of course, it was unintentional. She thought I was a Death Eater and panicked, but—"

James rolled onto his back, his breath caught in his throat. "Oh, God."

"I know, mate. It's not like I'm upset with her or anything; I know it was a mistake. But I thought you'd want to know."

James pinched his nose bridge with his spare hand and groaned. "And I led her into that place that I _knew_ was crawling with Death Eaters. Oh, how could I?"

"You forgot the name off the report, so what? She probably doesn't even know you knew what happened in the first place."

"No, I told her I changed your reports to get you fired after that night. She thought I knew this whole time. Oh, no. She must hate me."

With a dry laugh, Sirius arched an eyebrow. "Why don't you take out your diary and write some melancholic poetry? I think you might need some rest, mate. I'm going to have to flag this one as a bit of an overreaction on your part."

James sighed and looked sullenly to the mirror. "You don't understand. I am a slut."

This sent Sirius into a round deep laughter. "What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

"Don't judge me."

"You'll hardly have to worry about that. I lead the monthly Slut Anonymous meetings at the local pub here."

"No," James insisted before saying very slowly, "I have feelings for her."

The absolute shock from Sirius's end of the connection was apparent, and the ten seconds of resulting silence seemed, to James, to stretch into eternity.

"And she's my student."

"...Well," Sirius finally responded. "This is going to be a longer conversation than I had thought."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Author's Note: Shorter than last chapter, but there wasn't too much to cover. Career planning in the next chapter, which is already partially written and due up by Monday, since I'll be in Detroit and computer-less until then. I'm on break now, so I've got some extra time... And I'd like to introduce my new beta OneWhoSitsWithTheTurtles! Yay, now I don't have to proofread my own writing, which if you other writers out there have noticed, is the most difficult writing to proofread. The whole story will hopefully be edited by the end of the week-ish, so pardon any grammar mistakes until then.

Thanks for all your awesome reviews! And please leave more! Scathing criticisms, glowing reviews, and random facts about yourself are all welcome! Even a simple 'I read your story and am indifferent to it' will be greatly appreciated.

Until later, Nicole.


	13. Chapter 12: Nathaniel v Slithery

**Pretty Mouth and Green Her Eyes**

By: Nicole Jeanine

Disclaimer: The original characters and storyline are mine. I do not believe I am JK Rowling, or that I own _Harry Potter_ in any way, shape, or form. I also do not believe I am JD Salinger and would like to thank him for the use of his title (I switched one word, though).For this chapter, I additionally would like to clarify that I do not own the Beatles's song "A Hard Day's Night."

Summary: Five years after graduating, James Potter returns to Hogwarts as the defense professor. The residing Head Girl, Lily Evans, catches his attention and becomes irresistible yet seemingly unattainable.

**Chapter Twelve: Nathaniel v. Slithery**

James' classes the next morning were surprisingly tolerable. The younger years he was afflicted with on every other Monday morning, as well as various times throughout the week, were seemingly unaware of his absence over the weekend. He suspected the seventh years the following day would be the merciless crowd he had expected.

Clearly he had forgotten about the seventh year career assembly planned for that night. Upon realizing what was in store for him, he desperately searched for a way around it, but there was none.

The Great Hall tables that night were almost vacant, save the ten or so front-most seats of every house where the seventh years eagerly awaited their apprenticeship sign-ups. As James well remembered, no one was particularly interested any teacher's presentation on the career paths branching out from their subject areas. The sign-ups, on the other hand, were a mad dash—first come, first serve.

His mood lightened as he approached the crowd, which, although throwing a few suspicious glances his way, remained concentrated on the task at hand. Running shoes squeaked on the newly polished floor as a few binoculars in the mass scanned the line of listings kept along the wall behind the faculty's long table, as students were not allowed to venture close enough to read which sheet was which until after the succession of presentations. Thus, they had brought supplements to aid their stakeout. Nathaniel was even sitting in the aisle way, stretching his quads.

"Attention," Dumbledore called from the podium, causing James to scurry to his seat, reserved next to Kettleburn. "Attention," the headmaster repeated after casting an amplifying charm on his vioce.

The crowd silenced.

"Hello, all," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. "For those of you who may be unaware of why we have gathered here tonight, this is the time when I and my fellow professors give short introductions to careers available in our fields of expertise, after which you all will be given the opportunity to talk with specific staff in their classrooms. Different from what you may have heard, we shall not choose apprenticeships tonight—"

A loud voicing of disappointment, verging on reproach, came from the students.

"But rather," he continued above their noise, "tomorrow morning at five o'clock."

Utter resentment came from the more vocal ones of the group, and James chuckled at Dumbledore's ways, knowing that this change was meant to draw a response more than it was meant to serve any real purpose.

"Now, now. Your heads of house and I have taken a liking to a new program Durmstrang has put into effect recently: a wandless, magicless night. One night to show you where you find you rely on magic the most. I believe that this could help guide you in choosing which calling calls you strongest—which magic you find you'd be willing to dedicate your life to ensuring for future generations. Perhaps in looking for something to do that does not require magic, you venture to the library and read a history book, and find that you would like to pursue magical record keeping, yes?"

Groans came from the crowd below.

"Yes. As you all have noticed, or maybe not, I have already collected your wands."

Most began searching their pockets only to discover their headmaster was trickier than first perceived.

"Very well. On to the first subject: herbology."

Sprout bustled to the front podium and eagerly delved into the various applications of her specialty. Taking the opportunity to look around the room, James met the eyes of Shoelace Girl, who hastily looked away. 'Hmm,' he pondered rather vacantly.

Lily was seated with her usual crowd at the Gryffindor table. Five of them had painted black war paint stripes along their cheekbones; Lily, however, had abstained from their demonstration. Lucky thing, too, because being magic face paint, the only way to dispel it was by its counter charm.

Before long, James' turn at the podium had come. Nonchalantly, he approached the podium and looked up to find every eye on him, unlike the other professors' presentations during which the students would chat softly or stare into space. "Hello."

They looked to him expectanly.

"Right. Well, Defense Against the Dark Arts has many professions, especially at this day in age. An Auror is the most obvious career, but there are many other departments at the Ministry you could consider. In the, erm, the Unspeakable Department, unspeakables go on various top secret missions. If you'd like a family, though, you might want to consider taking a desk job at the Ministry or working in the Magical Abuse or Recreational Misuse of Spells Departments. There are also people who..." he trailed off. This wasn't going too badly, he summed happily. He locked eyes with Shoelace Girl again, who kept staring back this time.

"Who collect and file reports on suspected agitators. Many people are involved in Ministry trials: the judge, the court recorder, the lawyers, security detail. Undercover reporting, whether in radio or newspapers, is also very important in delivering truth about the war to the public. Honestly, I could go on and on listing all of the careers available—most jobs these days are related to the war in one way or another. Talk with me about any specific fields of work afterward, as Dumbledore mentioned before. Most of you will probably use the skills I've taught you outside of the classroom in some form after you've left school whether you take a profession in the field or not. Who knows, maybe you'll come back like I did and teach. You never really know what will happen out there. Thank you."

He retook his seat as Kettleburn approached the front to discuss mathematics and such. Allegra was his sole listener, it seemed to James, as she stared without distraction from him for his entire time at the podium. His eyes falling back to Lily, he wished she was attentive as Shoelace Girl, who looked away blushing yet again as he caught her eye. James smirked at her reaction. This could be fun.

The meeting wrapped up shortly, and after mingling with his coworkers for the shortest time possible, he bolted out of there. Wandering a bit before returning to his classroom, he saw his various pupils clustering and dispersing randomly in the hallways, all whining about the five o'clock contingency. Eventually, though, he found his way back to his room, where he expected to meet a small crowd.

Entering, he found five seventh year girls huddled on the exact middle tabletop of his classroom, all breathing sporadically, their eyes glued to a nearby table. Looking over them, he noted Lily, Mirina, Braden, Long Eyelash Girl, and Environmental Activist Girl. Nathaniel had walked over the desk surfaces toward the place of girls' fixation, wandless, followed reluctantly by Boy with John Lennon Haircut.

"Hey you guys..." he started, unsure of what was going on.

"Professor, get off the floor! There's a snake!"

James jumped as quickly as he could atop a desk, his knees absorbing the sudden impact with a slight twinge of pain. He walked closer to the group while calling, "Mr. Rockwell, please cease your efforts. You haven't a wand, have you?"

"No, sir," Nathaniel responded tartly, drawing the attention away from the snake and to the arguing men. "I expect you do?"

Giving Nathaniel an 'of course I do, silly little truffle' sneer and reaching into his pockets, James realized he, too, was without defense. "No," he admitted a bit embarrassed. "It appears I do not."

"Ooo, Dumbledore must have accidentally summoned everyone's wands at the meeting earlier," Mirina explained.

James lost any notions of awe over Dumbledore's cleverness in that instant.

"So, what was your plan, professor? Or shall we carry out mine?" Nathaniel challenged.

"Please, enlighten me. What were you intending?"

Nathaniel had lost interest in the snake and refound it in proving himself the better man. Accordingly, he rounded on James. "First, blind it with itching powder."

With a snap of Nathaniel's fingers, Boy with John Lennon Haircut held up a large bottle and poured a vat of the powder onto his hand in demonstration.

James rolled his eyes at their theatrics.

"Then, we pick it up and throw it from the window. A three story drop should kill it, and if not, at least it's out of here."

"And Mr. Rockwell, what does the snake look like?" James questioned, folding his arms tightly across his chest, which he had thrust slightly outward.

"It's black with an bright orange stripe down its length. Is the nature expert going to tell us which genus our little friend belongs to?"

Nathaniel's right-hand-man and a few of the girls laughed in support of James' challenger.

"No, but I can tell you that its venom is poisoness, if not lethal. The brighter the markings, the more deadly." James somewhat regretted informing Nathaniel of this fact after having said it, but then tried to remember his position as a teacher.

"I tried to tell you," Lily spoke gently to Nathaniel, who flared in response.

"Look, I have an idea. Snakes breathe through their skin, right? Why don't we just sprinkle something toxic from the storeroom around it until it moves. Then we just guide it out of the room with the powder?"

"Inspired idea, Miss Evans," James called to her before Nathaniel had a chance to claim it for his side of the battle. "Would you mind getting it from the storeroom for me? I think I'll start a reconnaissance mission to see exactly what we're dealing with."

Lily nodded and hesitantly hopped along the rows of desks to the back storeroom.

Advancing on the scene, James had Nathaniel to point him to the snake.

"It's by the window, right there," he answered with a defeated gesture.

But it was not. Nathaniel did not appreciate James' skepticism regarding his knowledge of where the attacker had been located, but upon surveying the area himself, the realized the snake was no where to be found.

The three men in the room bent their heads below the desktops, looking across the floor any sign of snake or slither, but none was to be found.

Suddenly, a loud scream of surprise reverberated off the walls of the storeroom and seeped into the main classroom where the search party had clustered to reorganize.

The arguing pair looked to one another.

James hurdled toward the storeroom, as did Nathaniel. Unfortunately for the latter, one of James' windmilling arms sideswiped Nathaniel, sending him to the stone floor with a loud thud, then long scrape. Shrieking, Nathaniel scrambled onto a desktop and crawled viciously after James before lurching upright to walk properly.

Uncontested, James obviously reached his beloved first. She was perched on a high, open cabinet in the small storeroom and fidgeted uncomfortably as the snake reached the second tier of shelving on the unit she sat atop. James, who had been standing on the floor for a brief moment, threw himself backward and shimmied to the top of the unit across from hers.

"Help," she said meekly, not taking her eyes from the snake as it loomed closer.

James looked her over. She was not scared, but rather aware that she was entirely defenseless. "It's alright, sweetheart. Just give me your arm."

She took his outstretched hand at first, but then got to her feet and grasped his elbow.

"Okay, on the count of three, then," he said, bracing himself. "One—"

"Why must everyone count up?" she asked while rolling her eyes at him.

James looked to her with disbelief. "Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously. Just once, I'd like to hear a voluntary countdown. Why must the world count up?"

"Fine, but maybe we should make it to two—"

"From two," she interjected.

"—Because Slithery is picking up speed. So is 'two, one' your request?"

"Well that just sounds wrong."

"So a count up?"

"Just keep it a count down from three. What's one second?"

"Oh my god—"

"Ehh," Lily sounded, noting Slithery's attempts to conquer the shelf below hers. "Okay, now."

James, surprisingly, did not foresee her jump and nearly dropped her. Mid-leap, his arm locked in realization, leaving her dangling below him, her hands pulling frantically at his clothing. In one pull, he brought her onto his lap and into his arms, but before he noticed his favorable position, she had already moved to sit next to him, leaving her one leg awkwardly stretched across him. There was a very limited seating capacity to the tops of shelving units, James discovered.

"Sorry," she mumbled, trying and failing to find a different place for her leg.

"Don't worry about it. I think I'll be getting up in a moment anyway," he said as he located a position for his feet while he climbed down.

"Why? No, what are you doing?" she questioned, pulling on his shirt once again in an effort to keep him by her side.

James looked back at her and untangled her leg. "Do you want me to kill it or not?"

"Oh, well—"

"I'm going to try and use one of those shovels near the door."

"Wait." Her hand closed firmly on the shoulder of his dress shirt, which wrinkled beneathe her tight grasp. "Don't kill it."

The James gave her told her she was insane. "What?"

"Don't hurt it."

"You're kidding."

"I mean, just look at it…" she trailed off while looking sympathetically toward Slithery.

The snake had calmly lain out along the top of the shelving unit, making no attempt to harm or destroy any of his surroundings. His black eyes had lost fixation on any one object, but his flicking tail affirmed life.

"He's sleeping, you think?"

James stared into Lily's eyes, watching their tired attacker with innocent curiosity, and lost his will to primitively parade his manliness. "Okay. Why don't we get down and try to figure out a way to put it outside?" With a confirmatory glance toward the snake, "It doesn't look like he's going anywhere fast."

Lily reached both arms to James, who had already made it to the floor, and slid off the top shelf, letting him catch her.

Just as she got onto her own feet, Nathaniel bounded into the room, instinctively unhooking a shovel from the wall just inside the room.

"Shh," Nathaniel naively warned before continuing in a whisper: "he's right up there."

"No, Nath—" Lily began to explain as Nathaniel pushed her aside gently.

Everything suddenly happened all at once. With one flick of the shovel, Nathaniel sent the snake airborne, causing Lily, who previously was running forward to pull the shovel from the air, to duck and retreat in chaos. James flinched reflexively as well, covering his head with one arm and pulling Lily, who had begun screaming, down to the floor beside him, her head out of the shovel's path.

Nathaniel wielded his weapon again as Slithery hit the far wall and fell to the floor. Waking a snake is never a good idea, as Nathaniel learned when his opponent swiftly avoided the repeated blows of the shovel and coiled to strike.

Lily buried her face in James's embrace while the snake hissed and displayed its fangs just before sinking them into Nathaniel's thigh. Seeing as there was little he could do for Nathaniel anymore, James merely stroked Lily's hair to comfort her. Her arms tightened around him as the shovel clanged with more urgency than before.

Grunting in vengeance, Nathaniel swung again, missing, and again, severing.

"Aha," Nathaniel growled triumphantly, chopping the snake's halves into multiple pieces in a manner somewhere between a crazed axe-murder and a toddler taking apart a puzzle. "Never fear, my ladies, the beast has been slain," he called in pride, wrenching Lily from James's grasp and dragging her into the other room, where the four girls and Boy with John Lennon Haircut stood applauding.

As the venom surged through his blood, Nathaniel's grip on Lily relented and he fell chaotically into a small group of desks, rolling over in pain once he reached the ground. Lily curled her knees into her chest a few feet from Nathaniel and shuddered violently.

Surveying the scene, James had no idea what to do. Their friends had attended to Nathaniel, figuring out that he had been struck. Looking to Lily while rolling up Nathaniel's pant leg to reveal the bite, Mirina appeared torn, as well.

'Alright, take charge,' James thought resolutely. "Miss McDowell, see to it that Mr. Rockwell gets to the infirmary. Get them to help you," he gestured to the rest of the group, who all seized a limb. "I'll take care of Miss Evans and meet you all there in a few minutes."

Mirina's blue eyes hurriedly searched the visible parts of her friend. "Was she bit, too?"

"No, I don't think so. She'll be alright," he said gently, crouching next to Lily on the floor.

Nathaniel was hauled out the door as Lily took her hand from her leg, revealing blood.

James twisted her injured limb and found the wound. It was not deep, but it was long. Furrowing his brow, he put her hand back onto the cut to apply pressure. "How did this happen? I was there the whole time, and I didn't—"

"The shovel…" she said vaguely, her large, sad eyes directed toward the floor.

'Damn Nathaniel,' James thought as he exhaled with slight anger. During his heroic brandishing of the shovel, he must have let it cut into her a bit.

"Oh, it's just horrible," she said, her voice catching in her throat periodically. "Did you see it all?"

James nodded solemnly.

"And then after he killed it…" she trailed off as a single tear fell down her cheek. "It didn't deserve that."

"I know," James cooed soothingly while guiding her head to his shoulder. "At least someone like you cares, though. I think the snake would be glad that it didn't die with its good qualities passing unnoticed."

Lily chuckled hoarsely and sat up straight. "This is ridiculous. I'm sorry, I don't know why—"

"It's okay," James smiled. "You're not hurt anywhere else are you?"

She shook her head.

"Can you walk alright?"

With a helping hand up, she demonstrated for James.

"Okay, I'll walk you to the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey can close that up for you, and we can see what damage Mr. Rockwell caused for himself. Sometimes, that boy just—"

"Reminds you of yourself?" she finished cheekily.

"…No."

"Oh really?"

"He doesn't! I mean, look, I wasn't going to kill the snake."

"Pfft," she sounded. "Yes you were."

"I mean, I was. But I listened to you and stopped, you see?"

"Oh, I see. My mistake."

"That's right your mistake," he said, giving Lily a playful shove and receiving a punch in the arm from her in return.

"Oh ho," he called, wheeling her to face him as they stopped in the hallway, barely having moved from his classroom door.

"Oh ho," she echoed to mock him.

He flicked her ear.

She flicked his nose.

He flicked her arm.

She flicked his shoulder.

"Ouch," he gasped suddenly, holding his shoulder in feigned pain. "Detention, Miss Evans."

"What?! I'm not having detention," she declared and punched him playfully.

He pushed her back lightly, giggling a bit. "Two, you say?"

She groaned in defeat, but punched him again and took off running toward the infirmary, James trailing after her.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Author's Note: Wow... it's been a while. How has everyone been? Hopefully you all enjoyed the update. I'd been trying to think of what to write about, and then there was a snake in my garage yesterday, so I thought of this... Please excuse any grammar, as I've yet to edit. I thought I'd made you wait long enough, though, so I thought I'd put it out as soon as possible.

Review please! And let me know what you thought. Good or bad, scintillating or drab, riveting or monotonous, awe-inspiring or yawn-eliciting?

Much love to all, Nicole.


	14. Chapter 13: Mud Wrestling

**Pretty Mouth and Green Her Eyes**

By: Nicole Jeanine

Disclaimer: The original characters and storyline are mine. I do not believe I am JK Rowling, or that I own _Harry Potter_ in any way, shape, or form. I also do not believe I am JD Salinger and would like to thank him for the use of his title (I switched one word, though).

Summary: Five years after graduating, James Potter returns to Hogwarts as the defense professor. The residing Head Girl, Lily Evans, catches his attention and becomes irresistible yet seemingly unattainable.

**Chapter Thirteen: Mud Wrestling**

James out-stepped Lily toward the end of their walk, advancing a few paces ahead of her so as to reach the Hospital Wing door first and open it for her. Upon entering, he cringed at the smell and reflexively gagged, reaching a hand toward his mouth. It was a little known fact: James Potter absolutely detested the hospital atmosphere. Everything from the bleached white sheets to the ever-present sterile alcohol odor, from the ginormous monster needles to the thinly-padded waiting room chairs—the Hospital Wing had no redeeming qualities.

The group of seventh years was still huddled around Nathaniel, who now was lying on a cot, shivering as Madame Pomfrey pushed a clear liquid into his thigh with a syringe. Her eyes darted up to the opening door, and she gave a small huff, "Oh my, all of these injuries tonight—I don't think there's another open bed."

"No problem," James called, sitting Lily down on the edge to bed next to Nathaniel's. "I'm sure Mr. Deerfield won't mind sharing his foot space."

William Deerfield, a fourth year, shook his head, which had a large ice pack resting on top of it. "Not at all, sir," he said airily, apparently a little disoriented from his medication.

Madam Pomfrey eyed Lily, looking for any immediate disaster.

James took note. "It's nothing to worry about really—just a small scrape. I can clean it up for you if you'd like. We learned basic healing in Auror training."

The look Madam Pomfrey gave James told him that he was her favorite person in the world. All of the past resentment over the boys not coming to her with injuries from their monthly excursions into the Forbidden Forest melted, and her eyes almost teared. "Oh, that would be lovely. Thank you so much, Professor."

And the Earth stood still. One of James' colleagues had just called him 'Professor.' He blinked in shock and gratitude, and then remembering Lily, he went to the supply closet to fetch some swabs and dressings.

Rushing back with arms full of cotton and hydrogen peroxide, James sat on his knees in front of Lily and began the process. After he uncorked the cleaning solution, he gently took hold of the back of her leg to keep it still as he worked. His thumb started to massage a small circle into her calf when her breathing tightened, and he looked up in alarm.

"Are you alright? It doesn't sting, does it?"

She dropped her gaze to her hands in her lap and shook her head.

James flinched back at her sudden disinterest in him; she did not even wan to make eye contact. Slightly sadder, he finished the task at hand more methodically and detached than before. Standing up straight, he smiled weakly at her. "There you go. All better."

She hopped off the bed and landed very close to James, who remained stationary at the foot of the bead, not moving from the change in proximity. Still not meeting his gaze, she took a half step toward James and turned to Nathaniel to watch.

Every eye in the room was on Nathaniel as Madame Pomfrey explained his condition, except for James. He stared curiously at Lily, very confused.

"He'll survive; the damage was not as bad as I had initially thought. He should be ready to go back to class tomorrow, but he'll have to stay here overnight just as a precaution." Madame Pomfrey glanced to the clock before continuing, "And visiting hours are officially over. If you all don't mind, we'll let Mr. Rockwell get his rest."

She prodded them toward the door as the group gave Nathaniel pats on the shoulder or one-armed hugs, calling "goodnight" over their shoulder. Out in the hallway, they all uncharacteristically turned toward James, silent.

He looked at the huddle of them, a bit nervous. "Yes?"

Boy with John Lennon Haircut assumed Nathaniel's place as their spokesman and cleared his throat. "Sir, we were wondering if you could tell us a bit more about the Defense apprenticeship."

James sighed. He had completely forgotten. "Sure I can," he started, looking out the stone doorway further down the corridor. "Do you all want to go outside?"

They considered, throwing looks at one another, before nodding simultaneously.

It was cold outside, but James didn't particularly care at the moment. He had no idea why he had the sudden impulse to lead a nature walk; however, that wasn't of consequence either. He just really, _really_ wanted the fresh air.

They slowed by the lakeside and sat Indian-style in a circle silently, the dewy grass beneath them while the chilled wind whipped around their faces in sudden gusts. James ran his hand through the blades before beginning, "Well. Let's do this in a sort of forum style. Why don't you all ask me something, and your questions can lead the conversation."

The group, again, collectively nodded.

Mirina spoke first, "What was the training like?"

James met her eyes, noticing a change in them. She was regarding the question with more seriousness than he expected. "It was... different than I had thought." Glancing around the circle, he found he had everyone's undivided attention. The night seemed to have caused their calmed demeanors. There was an air to the huddle that was unlike anything James had experienced in a clasroom with them. "At first there was a lot of written work. I had been expected to 'hit the ground running,' so to speak. My first mission wasn't until over a year later."

Boy with John Lennon Haircut gave a low whistle.

"Yeah. There were loads of tests—I felt like I was back in school. Finally we started putting our knowledge to practice, but that doesn't even prepare you.

"I wasn't in the program long enough to do any of the more advanced work you'd associate with Aurors, but even the assignments I was sent on were... nothing like I could have imagined when I signed up. I thought I'd be some sort of superhero that little kids would look up to, or wish to be. That turned out to be the furtherest thing from what I was going through. They'd have me running through forests or swamps, chasing Deatheaters in the dead of night until I collapsed from exhaustion. Once, they sent me to Romania to find a pack of werewolves Voldemort had just convinced to join ranks with him. I was lucky to get out of there alive—and then the next day, I had to go on another clean-up mission to a friend of mine's house. It was just one thing after another.

"Being who I am, I was a target, so of course, I had the added fear of being pursued. Everywhere I turned, even off the clock, I knew there were people tracking me, following me. There was no glamor in the work like I had expected. And I just became obsessed with it all. I knew if it wasn't me going on a mission, it'd be my best friend, and I couldn't handle the thought of him being without me. I signed up for everything I could, wanting to 'save everyone,' I guess. At least that's what MadEye, the Head Auror, told me when I was let go. I pretty much ran myself into the ground; I was totally overworked. Just know, before you go in, that you can't expect people—even the ones you work with—to make it every time. There'll be a lot of blood on your hands. You just have to get past it and start counting the number you save rather than the number you lose."

James had been looking off into the forest for most of his speech, but brought himself to look back at his audience for a second, locking eyes with Lily, who gazed at him with extreme sympathy.

"Do you regret any of it?"

Making a face, James shook his head. "No, not exactly. I mean, looking back on it, I'm glad I served—I did a lot of good. Even my mistakes, in the end, I couldn't have expected. I did the very best I could, and I'm proud of that chapter of my life. At the same time, when it was actually happening, I beat myself up over every little mistake. If I didn't turn around fast enough, and someone was hit with the _Crucio_ spell, I would dwell on it for weeks. I had nightmares whenever I slept. I thought I was totally inadequate, like I couldn't do anything right. That wasn't true at all, but at the time, that's all I could see. I was pretty unstable toward the end of things."

Everyone just nodded and looked away uncomfortably, unsure of what to say.

James picked up the conversation. "So is that it for all of you? Do you just want to be Aurors?"

"Not anymore," someone muttered; James couldn't tell who.

"Like I said at the meeting, there are plenty of other jobs in the Defense field. Not that there's anything wrong with the Auror track; it just takes a very special kind of person. It's not all about talent or ability—you need the drive to get past the rougher times. I didn't mean to scare any of you off—I just wanted you all to know it isn't all duels and medals. I wish someone would have spelled that out for me when I was your age."

Environmental Activist Girl raised her hand tentatively.

James gave a short chuckle. "Yeah?"

"Are you going to center the apprenticeship around a career then? Like, around whatever we want to be?"

Pausing to think, James shrugged. "I can make the apprenticeship whatever you want. You can help me grade papers, or you can have me teach you combat skills. It's up to you how much you'll put into and get out of the arrangement."

Everyone was quiet again, and James took the moment to look at Lily. The starlight lit up the air, and he could see her features clearly, despite the hour. Her brow was scrunched, staring at the grass she was pulling out of the ground. James watched as her hand twisted the blades into spirals before tugging them from their roots, absentmindedly tossing the severed green bits into a pile and finding more attached foliage to detach. "You look like your thinking about something, Miss Evans?" he asked finally.

She remained focused on the ground. "I was just wondering... how long did you stay an Auror? You make it seem like it was horrible for you, but I remember you working there for quite a while."

James was slightly taken aback by the attention she had paid the news stories on his life and by how much she had remembered. "That's true. For about six months after I quit, I cycled through some of the ministry departments, so I worked at the Ministry for three years. But yeah, for two and a half years, I was an Auror. Like I said, I was kind of obsessed with the job. The lows were low, but the highs were higher than I ever thought possible. Whenever we won a battle or recovered a hostage, it was just pure euphoria. When I hit the rough patch at the end of my career, though, I became really depressed and put my life in major risk. It paid off; I got them to give the Muggle girl they'd kidnapped back, but it really was irrational. They were right to fire me—I acted almost suicidally."

The use of such a strong word put an obvious damper on the valve of conversation.

"Oh," she mouthed wordlessly, not meeting his eyes but remaining concentrated on the grass she picked.

Silence overtook the circle again, until Mirina gave a slight giggle.

"This heart-to-heart discussion is too intense—I'm completely worn out."

Boy with John Lennon Haircut nodded. "Same. This has been really nice Professor, truly, but now my whole vision for the future has just been shaken. Thinking this through has used up all of my energy," he said, standing up.

James smirked a little as Mirina and Environmental Activist Girl stood as well. Lily remained seated. They had a silent exchange and the two girls bid James goodnight before following the boy, leaving Lily behind.

He watched Lily sit serenely, still pulling at the grass, for a minute and sighed. "Do you want to talk?"

Unexpectedly, she scowled and shook her head 'no,' with a touch of annoyance.

Looking away, he took a deep breath and sharply exhaled before refocusing on the sky, lying on his back for a better view. She was more difficult to decode tonight than usual. Whatever it was, it obviously had started in the infirmary. Was she mad at him? Concerned for Nathaniel? Totally apathetic to both and bothered about something entirely unrelated?

'Oh, well,' he thought in defeat. He'd just wait until she said something. There was no point in guessing blindly at the answer.

Time passed rather slowly. Each minute seemed to stretch on for an hour as he fought the urge to look at her. She clearly did not want to interact with him, but he kept wanting to glance over to see if she had changed her mind, changed her stance, or at least her expression. Finally, he heard the ripping sound stop and a new shifting sound begin.

He sat slightly as she swung herself around to lay next to him, looking at the stars.

They stayed frozen in that position for a while, him watching her as she laid quietly beside him. The starlight reflected in the white of her eye, giving a sharp outline to the emerald color, which seemed darker against the new contrast. The last time he had seen her laying down, he hadn't studied her in this detail—the way the shadows fell across her face seemed out of the ordinary, but still fitting. His eyes traced from her cheekbone to her chin, looking at the structure and angle of her face rather than just the complexion he usually noticed.

Finally, she spoke, her tone much like it had been before in his classroom. "The stars help me think sometimes."

James settled back into the ground, looking around the sky. "How so?"

He heard her shrug against the wet grass. "They just relax me. I do this a lot."

"Do what?"

"Come out here after curfew to watch the stars. Certainly you remember when you found me doing this before."

James gave a dry laugh. "Oh, right. Was that it then—you just came out here to think?"

She nodded, "Yeah." After another minute, she pointed to a star just to the left of a dull cluster. "See the star right there? The one that's brighter than the ones near it?"

"Err, yeah, I do," he said after locating it.

"That's Adhara."

It took James a few seconds to understand. "Oh, she's named after a star?"

"Yeah, she was the first person who ever took me stargazing. In December during first year, we snuck out late one night and went to the Quidditch pitch. You were there actually."

"Really?" James said, surprised. After thinking for a second, though, he realized it wasn't that far off base. He always snuck out at night.

"You weren't paying attention to us, so we went up into the stands while you practiced this one dive over and over again. You even fell off your broom a couple times. Once, it took you a while to get up, and we almost went down to see if you were okay. Just injured pride though, I guess."

James smiled. "That sounds familiar. I was really into practicing. Didn't want to let the team down by falling off my broom or something stupid during a match."

"You're always afraid to let people down," she commented softly. It wasn't a question.

"That seems on the mark," he admitted.

He was letting her analysis sink into him when she informed, "I think I am going to apprentice Madame Pomfrey." Lily giggled slightly. "I think we're more alike than I realized."

James made a confused face and turned his head to look at her. "What do you mean?"

"It's a lot like you said. I wouldn't be able to handle the thought of saving one person while risking another. I want to save everyone."

Exhaling, James found her hand on the ground and squeezed it. "It's tough to be an idealist in times like these."

"Well," she started, "it's not like I expected it differently. In a way, I think idealists want to be challenged, by war or whatever else. It gives you the biggest chance to see things ideally—the biggest chance to change things into the ideals you want."

"It would be nice if things didn't have to be changed though. If things could have just been right to start with."

"If people could have never ever died in the first place, so they wouldn't need you to save them?" she asked, teasing him.

"No, you—" he groaned as he pushed her hand back. "Ugh, you what I mean."

She looked at him, smiling. "I think you know that you _want_ them to need saving. It's in your nature. You always look for people that need your help. You _want_ to find someone, for there to be someone who needs finding. You'd go to the end of the Earth for them if you had to—you'd just _have_ to find someone."

James sighed. "So what's your point?"

"My point," she breathed, sitting up to look at him from above, "is that wartime is the perfect time to be an idealist, like ourselves. There are plenty of people to save."

Rolling his eyes, James sat up as well. "Great, an idealist and an optimist." He laughed lightly at her expression. "You know, I meant what I said the first day of class. You'd be a really good Auror."

She shrugged. "I'll still think about it. I'm just not sure."

He nodded. "Don't rush into anything. That's my only advice. Feel everything out first."

Reciprocating his nod, Lily stared into the infinite expand of the lake's blackness. And then she smiled.

He watch as she took off her cloak and stood up, wearing only the school uniform despite the bitter cold. "No."

She giggled and nodded, walking toward the lake. "Yes."

"No," James repeated. "I'm not coming in there after you."

"Yes, you are," she laughed again. "You want to save me."

She took a couple quick paces and he jumped to his feet with urgency, only to see her stop abruptly, giggling more.

"This isn't funny. It's _really_ cold."

"No, I think it really is funny."

"No, it's really not. You don't know how many things are in that lake. It's not safe. This is _not_ funny."

"It is, though."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes," she repeated, taking a few more steps as he held up his hands.

"Stop. As your superior, I command you to stop."

Lily burst out laughing, clutching her sides. "What did you say?!"

He took her distraction as an opening and ran at her, attempting to catch her and haul her back into the castle before she could object. She was too quick, though, and took off for the water.

Due to his size, he had little trouble outpacing her and tackling her into the shallow water before she had a chance to get far enough in for the lake's nocturnal inhabitants to notice. They fell into the wet sand, and in an attempt not to squish her, he landed next to her. Unfortunately, she saw this misstep as accidental, and tried to climb over him. Her strength surprised him, and she actually climbed halfway in a fair struggle, overpowering him momentarily before he grabbed her waist and flipped her onto her back.

James leaned over her, pinning her to the sand in a thin layer of water. She gave up the fight rather quickly and laughed again; this time he joined her. Backing off but still smiling, he helped her sit up, the clumped sand still clinging to the back of her shirt.

"Are you satisfied?" he asked sarcastically.

Lily rolled her eyes, and laughed deeply again, dragging her arm quickly through the water, making it splash up at James as she curved her hand to disrupt the water's momentum.

Needless to say, James splashed back, causing Lily to retaliate and then James to throw a handful of wet sand, viewing the water as child's play. The sandy liner to the beach quickly proved decrative as the muddy bottom revealed itself. James caught Lily's wrist as she moved to grab the slimy dirt.

"Woah."

She looked him in the eye and smirked teasingly. "Woah, I think I just went there."

Her wrist struggled in his hand, but he held a tight grasp. "You don't want to mud wrestle me. It wouldn't even be a contest, and you'd just end up embarrassing yourself. So just put the mud down...." he trailed off, trying to pry her fingers open. The mud slime worked in Lily's favor, though, and he hand slipped from hers, allowing the half second window of opportunity she needed to smear the mud along the side of his face.

At this point, James couldn't tell if he was upset by the uncleanliness of it all, or if he was maybe a little turned on by the way things were heading. Despite himself, he dipped both hands in the dirt and childishly pushed her down again, smothering her hair in mud and sand. Her hand came up and held mud over his nose and mouth until he leaned off her. While rubbing the mud away from the more vital parts of his face, she climbed on his back trying to topple him face first into the mud.

He ended up holding her onto his back and standing, carrying her from the mud pit and water back to where their cloaks had been discarded.

"I hope your happy—both of us will catch pneumonia from this little stint," he quipped while putting her down and trying to wipe the mud off before he realized they both were almost entirely coated.

She scoffed at him. "My immune system is far too advanced for something like that."

He laughed, crinkling his eyes at the corner. "Come on, put your cloak on. You can at least humor me."

Batting her mud clumped eyelashes at him, she said airly, "Well, if you insist. After all, you are my savior."

"Alright, alright," he said deeply, draping her cloak over her shoulders after he finished fastening his. "Time for bed, darling."

"Only if you escort me."

James looked down into her face, smiling when he saw the dirt drips her hair left on her cheeks. He was really having a problem with the boundaries he'd tried to set in his mind. "If you insist," he echoed, glad that whatever caused her previous reservations with him that night had vanished.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Author's Note: I'm ba-aaaaaaack. :D As always, love to all.

Nicole.


End file.
